


The Sound of Silence

by dancewithme19



Series: I Hear Your Voice [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Ballet Blaine, Deaf Blaine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2413469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancewithme19/pseuds/dancewithme19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Part 1 of I Hear Your Voice, a series of five stories set in five different AU universes, all connected by theme. Kurt is willing to do anything to get his New York dream, even if it means spending the summer before his senior year learning ballet basics with a bunch of 13-year-olds. If it just so happens that the advanced boys’ class next door contains the living embodiment of every one of Kurt’s teenage dreams, well, that’s merely a perk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Silence

_2011_

 

Kurt is surprisingly okay with it when the New Directions come home from Nationals with a 12th place finish. The thing is, as nice as it would have been to shove that giant trophy right in the face of every jackass jock who’d ever called them _losers_ , the competition itself is actually kind of an afterthought for Kurt. How could it not be, when he has the billboards in Times Square to think about, or eating breakfast at Tiffany’s, or, god, _singing on stage at the Gershwin_?

 

He’s going to live there someday, he’s certain. He’s going to get out, and away, and he’s going to light up every single stage that he sets foot on. He’s going to find his people.

 

So, no, Kurt doesn’t despair the way his teammates do. Instead, he plans.  

 

Which is how he finds himself here, in a run-down strip mall bordered by cow pastures on one side and what Kurt can only assume is a meth lab on the other, warming up at the barre in his most fashionable sweatpants and trying his hardest not to question Mike’s sanity.

 

“It’s the best studio in the state, I swear,” Mike told him, eyes wide and fervent, when Kurt approached him after their last glee club meeting of the year. “I’ve been taking classes there since I was little.”

 

And, well, Kurt trusts Mike’s judgment on these things. It’s the only reason he didn’t turn right around as soon as he saw the place, actually. He certainly didn’t promise his summer to tire changes and lube jobs so that he could be taught how to plié by some bored, chain-smoking housefrau who’s seen one too many episodes of _Dance Moms_.

 

He’s pretty early, one of the first few people here. From the looks of things, he’ll probably be both the oldest and the most male in the room. Oh, well. He expected that. And it’s not like he’s here to make friends. He’s just looking to improve his technique enough to legitimately call himself a triple threat – he can do that in a room of 13-year-old girls just as well as he can anywhere else, as long as the instructor is competent.

 

The room slowly fills, and it’s not quite as bad as Kurt was expecting. There are a few girls who look like they might be his age, and a couple of younger boys. Some of them seem to know each other, and the others settle awkwardly around the edges of the room. Kurt himself pays none of them any mind, continuing through his stretching regimen with his head held high.

 

Soon enough, a woman strides into the room, abrupt and confident, a woman who clearly knows her own body and the space it moves through. Her hair is pulled tight in a bun, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses is perched on her nose. She’s young, much younger than Kurt was expecting, and smaller, too. She’s compact and muscular, nothing willowy about her, but there’s something about the exactness of her posture and the fluidity of her limbs that marks her as a dancer.

 

She calls for their attention, and the room quiets immediately.

 

Kurt relaxes.

 

She directs them to the barre and makes quick work of introductions – “My name is Keisha, and this is Youth Ballet, Level One. If you’re in the wrong class, now is the time to leave” – and then she’s putting them through their paces. She’s no-nonsense and not at all shy about making corrections, and Kurt learns so much about everything he’s been doing wrong that his head is spinning by the end of class. He kind of wants to get her in touch with Mr. Schue so that she can give him a few tips, to be honest. Or at least drag Finn in here to see if she can get him to look less like a lurching dinosaur when he executes choreography.

 

Kurt is sweaty and panting and completely satisfied when he walks out the door. He’s actually fishing around inside his gym bag for his phone so that he can text Mike his wholehearted thanks for the recommendation when he’s stopped, suddenly, by a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. He looks up absently.

 

His breath catches.

 

It’s – in the adjoining studio, the smaller room that shares a wall with the liquor store next door, it must be one of the advanced classes. It’s made up of a handful of boys around Kurt’s age and their instructor, a middle-aged man who gesticulates wildly as he yells out heavily accented corrections.

 

Kurt can’t seem to stop himself from gaping. Those are _serious_ dancers. One boy in particular, the one in the middle, he’s… Kurt swallows.

 

The boy is beautiful. The lean lines and curves of his body shift from one shape to the next with effortless grace. His eyes are bright and sharp with focus. His muscles bulge against the clinging fabric of his leotard.

 

Kurt might actually be physically incapable of looking away.

 

The music cuts out, then, and the boys stop mid-movement to listen to their instructor. The boy in the middle stands straight-backed and attentive, running a hand over his neatly slicked-back hair as he nods along. The instructor is saying something largely inaudible to Kurt, and illustrating it with his hands, and then, suddenly, Kurt feels like an idiot, because he realizes – the man isn’t gesturing at all. He’s _signing_. And the boy in the middle is signing back.

 

It’s enough of a surprise to take Kurt out of the trance he seems to have found himself in. He looks around, flushing what he’s sure is an unattractive shade of bright red, but no one else is lingering. No one noticed him noticing.

 

He turns on his heel and marches out the front door, determined to keep it that way.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt settles into a routine over the next couple of weeks. He’s out of bed by 7:00 (after 3-5 hits to the snooze button and a whole lot of semi-conscious groaning that he really hopes Finn sleeps too heavily to hear through the walls), and downstairs helping Carole with breakfast by 8:00. His dad stumbles down with just enough time to choke down some whole wheat toast and a cup of black coffee, and then they’re out the door. Kurt stays at the garage until lunchtime, helping with whatever grunt work needs doing and trying not to get grease in his carefully-coiffed hair. Sometimes he and his dad have lunch together on the ratty old couch in the break room, but usually he just meets Rachel or Mercedes or whatever configuration of glee girls can stand each other this week at the Lima Bean. He stays for approximately an hour, maybe more if there’s some particularly juicy gossip, and then he’s off for what he’s taken to calling “professional development” time, which, three days a week, means ballet class and the rest of the time means shutting himself in his room to work on the libretto for _Pip, Pip, Hooray_ and/or broaden his repertoire of pop diva ballads.

 

Rachel is pretty jealous that he’s managed to carve out so much time for himself, but she has a boyfriend, so she really has no right to complain.

 

Kurt spends evenings with his family and weekends with his friends. His days are full and his future brighter than ever, and, honestly, he’s happy enough that he doesn’t even care that everyone around him is wallowing in newly-minted love.

 

He’s starting to become friendly with some of the people in his class, though not to the point where he’d feel comfortable making plans with any of them. Just enough that it’s not weird to make small talk at the barre before class or exchange compliments on a particularly well-executed move. Two of the older girls are set on applying to performing arts schools, like him, so they all have a lot to talk about. The younger kids tend to give the three of them a wide berth, even as they watch them with something resembling awe. It’s miles from the classes Kurt remembers as a four-year-old in a tutu, when the looks he got were much more…confused, at best.

 

He’s already getting better, too. He’s not exactly a graceful swan, not yet, but he’s getting there. It helps that he’s just finished what he thinks is his last major growth spurt – his body is finally starting to feel like something that’s his to control, rather than some weird, alien thing that keeps morphing without his permission.

 

He sometimes stays for a few minutes after everyone has trickled away and watches the advanced class, the one with the boy who caught his eye on the first day. He always hurries away before anyone sees him there – he’s not sure what would happen if they saw him gawking, but he’s spent enough time in locker rooms to know it couldn’t be anything good. It’s just…he can’t help it, he’s never seen dancing like that up close.

 

It’s very…inspirational.

 

Kurt knows it’s pretty early, still, but he’s fairly confident that it’s not premature at all to officially name this the _Best. Summer. Ever_.

 

&&&&&

 

It’s a Wednesday and Kurt is at the Lima Bean waiting impatiently for his refill. He’s anxious to get on the road, as his lunch date with Tina and Mercedes went long, and he has to get to class a good fifteen minutes early if he wants to make sure no one steals his spot at the barre. The barista is moving so slowly that Kurt is sure she must be part snail, and her co-worker keeps trying to flirt with her, which means she’s stopping every few seconds to laugh in his general direction, and Kurt would snap his fingers at her in a heartbeat if he thought there was any chance she would hear it over the whirring of the espresso machine.

 

Finally, she calls his name, loudly, as if it isn’t clear from the glare he’s shooting her that he’s the one who’s been waiting for his drink, and he snatches it up without a word. He whirls around sharply, keen to make a beeline for his car, but he regrets it immediately – there’s someone there, startled and blinking and, now, drenched in iced mocha.

 

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry,” Kurt says quickly, hand rising in horror to cover his mouth. “Let me – um – oh, god, I’ve ruined your shirt haven’t I?” He’s starting to babble, he knows it, and he can’t quite look the guy in the eye. He grabs a handful of napkins from the counter behind him and waves them ineffectually in the guy’s direction. “Here, this is – I mean, obviously, you need to get that shirt off and soaking as soon as possible, but this might – ”

 

The guy is wide-eyed, bewildered. He holds up a hand.

 

“Stop,” he says, firmly. “Wait. You’re talking too quickly for me to follow.” His voice is…muffled, somehow, and his speech distorted, as if he’s talking through a wad of cotton.

 

And that’s when it clicks.

 

This is the boy. The dancer that Kurt’s been admiring for weeks. Kurt is an _idiot_.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, helpless. His voice is suddenly and uselessly loud, so much so that people are starting to turn in their chairs to look at them. He could really, truly kick himself.

 

The boy just smiles. It’s disarming, and devastating.

 

“Accidents happen,” he says.

 

“Still,” says Kurt, “I want to – can I pay for your coffee, to make up for it? Or maybe a new shirt?” He laughs, nervous and high-pitched, and the boy’s smile goes warm.

 

“Don’t worry about it, really. I’ve got a change of clothes in the car.”

 

Of course, because he’s probably on his way to ballet, just like Kurt is. Should be. Oh, god, he’s going to be late.

 

“Blaine!” calls out the oblivious barista. Kurt turns reflexively, and the boy follows his gaze.

 

“That’s me,” he says.

 

 _Blaine_.

 

He reaches around Kurt and grabs his drink with a “Thank you” for the barista, who isn’t even paying attention.

 

“Guess I’d better go change,” says Blaine with a kind wink, and then he’s gone, and Kurt is the one who’s left blinking and bewildered.

 

&&&&&

 

He doesn’t stay to watch that day, instead practically sprints out to his car the second Keisha dismisses them. He has no desire to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of Blaine.

 

But then he gets to thinking, and the thing is, he really does feel bad, because the whole incident was his fault and he knows quite intimately how it feels to get dowsed with a cold beverage in a public place. There’s the humiliation, which, honestly, didn’t seem to faze Blaine, and the stain, and the fact that you never quite stop being vaguely sticky in gross places until you make it to the shower. It’s horrible. So, he mans up, buys Blaine a new polo in approximately the right color and size, receipt folded neatly in an envelope just in case his estimate is off, and brings it to class on Friday.

 

The wait shouldn’t be long – the receptionist told him that the advanced boys’ class ends about half an hour after Kurt’s, so Kurt decides to stick it out in the tiny studio lobby. He brings his iPod and his _Pip, Pip Hooray_ notebook, but he mostly ends up perching on the edge of the lobby couch and twisting his hands. He keeps an ear out and heads back the second he hears voices in the hall, afraid that he’ll miss Blaine somehow if he waits.

 

He needn’t have worried. The boys are filtering out, jostling each other and laughing the way that Kurt has seen Finn do with his jock friends a million times, but Blaine is still there, in the studio. He’s in front of the mirror, completing a series of turns that looks, to Kurt’s amateur eyes, entirely perfect. His instructor is eyeing him watchfully. Blaine comes to a graceful finish, and the instructor nods approvingly. He signs something emphatic. Blaine smiles, and signs back with quick, nimble fingers.

 

Kurt stands awkwardly outside the door. He can feel eyes on him from behind, curious looks from the other boys, but he keeps his back straight and his chin tilted tall and pays them no mind. He has every right to be here.

 

Finally, Blaine gathers his things and heads toward the door. He stops suddenly when he sees Kurt, his brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Hi,” says Kurt, careful not to speak too loudly, or too slowly, and to look Blaine in the eye. The internet was very clear on these points.

 

“Hi,” says Blaine. His expression makes Kurt think that was meant as a question.

 

“You probably don’t recognize me, do you?” At Blaine’s blank look, Kurt plows on, trying hard not to cringe. “I’m the guy who spilled coffee on you the other day. You know, at the Lima Bean?”

 

Blaine’s face lights up in recognition.

 

“Oh, right. The iced mocha – how could I forget?” His smile falters a little. “Did I tell you I dance here?”

 

“No, no, you didn’t. I – I’m not a stalker or anything, either, I promise. I’m actually in the 2:00 class next door, so I, um, I just – I recognized you, and I wanted to make up for my faux pas.” He offers up the box without further ado, unwilling to blunder through a more detailed explanation. As it so often does, the clothing will speak for itself.

 

Blaine takes the box, curious, and undoes the neatly-curled ribbon with care. He laughs when he sees what’s inside, the sound of it rough and uninhibited.

 

“Thank you,” he says with utter sincerity. His eyes are practically shining with it. “This is exactly the right shade of turquoise. It’s perfect.”

 

Kurt preens a little, pleased. He can’t help it.

 

“I do have an excellent eye. There’s a receipt in the box if it doesn’t fit right.”

 

“I’m sure it will.”

 

“Good. That’s…good.”

 

Blaine marvels at the shirt for a moment longer, then bites his lip. He looks up decisively.

 

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” he says. “I have a break between classes, and my friends seem to have abandoned me. I could use the company.”

 

Kurt swallows. Blaine is smiling, but it’s not – it _could_ be a date, Blaine _could_ be flirting, but it’s really, really hard to tell. Kurt nods anyway.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be great,” he says breathlessly, and really hopes that Blaine can’t tell.

 

“Great. I’m Blaine, by the way.” He signs something as he speaks, what Kurt assumes must be his name, then holds out his hand to shake.

 

“Kurt.” He does his best to finger-spell it, but he knows his fingers are clumsy. Blaine’s smile broadens anyway, in appreciation. Kurt takes his hand and looks into his eyes, and the shake lasts several moments longer than Kurt intended.

 

God, he’s such a goner.

 

&&&&&

 

Blaine insists on paying for their coffees – “It’s only fair,” he says. “You replaced my shirt, so I should replace your mocha.” Kurt has a hard time resisting.

 

Things are a little awkward, at first. Kurt keeps talking too fast, or gesturing so emphatically that he accidentally blocks his mouth, and then he feels terrible and apologizes too much, and Blaine is really too polite to do something like roll his eyes or otherwise broadcast his impatience, but Kurt can’t help but feel he’s kind of botching this whole thing. And that, of course, just makes things worse. Finally, Blaine reaches out and covers Kurt’s wrist gently.

 

“You’re doing fine,” he says. “Just relax and talk to me normally. I’ll tell you if I don’t get something.”

 

So he does. Or at least, he does his best. It really helps that Blaine’s smile seems to have magical calming properties and that his eyes, focused so utterly on Kurt’s face, kind of make the rest of the world melt away.

 

Blaine tends to speak slowly, by force rather than by choice, as if his tongue has somehow been stuck on slow motion. His voice is low and rough-hewn, and his intonation flat. Kurt finds that he has to listen, really listen, and watch Blaine’s expressive face to make sure he catches everything. His own pace slows as a result, and everything else just seems to fall into place. They find a rhythm that works for them both.

 

Blaine is 16, it turns out, fresh off of his sophomore year at Haverbrook. Kurt asks him about the Haverbrook show choir, but Blaine just shrugs noncommittally.

 

“Some of my friends are in it,” he says.

 

“Not your thing?”

 

“No, I just…don’t really have time for any other extracurriculars.”

 

“You must be really serious about dancing.”

 

Blaine nods earnestly.

 

“I have to be. I want to be a professional.”

 

“Well, you’re really good,” says Kurt, and he looks away before he can blush too hard at the fawning tone of his own voice. When he looks back, Blaine is smiling at him, touched.

 

“Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

 

It was actually kind of an understatement, definitely not worthy of that kind of gratitude. But Blaine’s reaction – or, let’s face it, everything about Blaine – puts Kurt at ease.

 

“How long have you been taking lessons?” he asks.

 

“Oh, since I was four or so. My mom took me to see _The Nutcracker_ , and that was it. I was in love. It took a while to convince her to let me try it, but I was very persistent.”

 

“I took ballet when I was four, too. But I was in it more for the tutus than anything else.”

 

Blaine grins.

 

“I bet you were adorable.”

 

Kurt bites his lip against the outrageous smile threatening to burst out all over his face. This _definitely_ feels like flirting.

 

 _Not as adorable as you in your little tights_ , he wants to say, and he’s kind of shocked at his own brazenness. Even if it is confined entirely to the inside of his own head.

 

“I was an exceptionally cute child,” he says instead.

 

“So, why did you decide to pick it up again now?”

 

Kurt doesn’t hesitate to tell him the whole thing – about the New Directions, and their failure at Nationals, and his dreams for Broadway. Blaine watches, rapt, and only makes him stop and repeat a few times.

 

“That’s what I want, too,” he says, his eyes wide with conviction. “New York, I mean. American Ballet Theatre is my dream company.”

 

It isn’t the only thing they have in common, either. They have shared interests in fashion – though Blaine’s style is pretty firmly fixed on the preppy-chic end of the spectrum – and reality television that keep them chattering until it’s time for Blaine to head out for his partnering class. They exchange numbers before they part ways, which leaves Kurt giddy enough that he does a little dance in his car after he’s sure that Blaine has pulled away.

 

Best summer ever, indeed.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt must start and stop more than a dozen texts before lunchtime on Saturday. He wants to strike just the right tone – friendly, casual, maybe a soupçon of wow-look-at-how-romantically-compatible-we-are-you-should-totally-date-me.

 

He cycles through all variations of _Hey, yesterday was fun, let’s do it again_ before trying out a lighter, flirtier _So, what does Blaine Anderson do with his Saturdays?_ – immediately rejected – and thena series of selfies featuring accessories they discussed over coffee, in which his skin is so washed out it’s bypassed porcelain and landed directly on ghostly. It isn’t until he realizes that he’s resorted to riveting commentary on the weather that he finally gives up. The ball is just going to have to be in Blaine’s court for now.

 

Kurt sets up a shopping date with Mercedes for later that afternoon and resolutely ignores the siren call of Facebook in favor of helping Carole in the garden. He makes sure his phone is fully charged and the volume is turned all the way up before he leaves the house, and he does his best not to jump whenever his ringtone trills. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t succeed, if the way Mercedes is eyeing him is any indication.

 

“Do you have something to share, Kurt?” she says with a completely unsubtle nudge of the elbow after he sighs his disappointment and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

 

He bites his lip. She grins widely.

 

“I may have met someone,” he says, and even just saying those words sends a shiver up his spine.

 

Mercedes squeals at that and drags him by the arm to the bench outside the Gap.

 

“Okay, dish,” she says seriously.

 

“He’s a dancer at the studio, and he’s – he’s amazing, Mercedes, and I think he might be gay, and I’m almost certain that we went on a coffee date yesterday after his class, and – ”

 

“Wait. Hold up. He _might_ be gay?”

 

Her eyebrows are raised skeptically, and Kurt does not appreciate that. He folds his arms over his chest.

 

“I know what you’re thinking. This is nothing like what happened with Finn, okay?”

 

“Or Sam,” she says pointedly, and that’s just uncalled for.

 

“Okay, Mercedes. Point taken. My gaydar sucks. This guy is different, though. He’s – it’s – it’s just different.”

 

“Okay,” she says, but Kurt can tell she’s just placating him.

 

He doesn’t push it – he doesn’t want to get into a fight. He’d rather prove it.

 

He takes out his phone and, without more than a moment’s thought, types out _Hi, Blaine, it’s Kurt. You know, the guy who spilled mocha all over your second favorite polo? I just got top secret intel that Lady Godiva is having a sale tomorrow, and you seem like the kind of guy who would appreciate half-price vintage bow ties. Would you care to join me?_

 

Blaine’s reply doesn’t take more than a moment.

 

_Hi, Kurt! I’m so glad you texted! I’d love to accompany you. Would you like to do lunch first?_

 

Kurt grins. He tries to tamp it down before it becomes too smug, and he hands over his phone to Mercedes.

 

She raises her eyebrows again, impressed.

 

“See?” he says. “It’s different.”

 

She hands his phone back.

 

“Alright, you have a point,” she says with a smile, but her eyes are far more serious than the occasion warrants. “Just be careful.”

 

Kurt rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t deign to respond. He refuses to let her ruin this for him. He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it with an appreciative grin, then threads her arm through his.

 

“Lead the way,” he says with an expansive gesture that almost leads to him flinging his shopping bags over the ledge and into the fountain below. She laughs and shakes her head at him fondly, and he knows the message has been received – _topic tabled until further notice_.

 

&&&&&

 

The shopping trip is both better and worse than Kurt expected. Blaine is completely wonderful – charming, funny, and possessing impeccable taste in men’s accessories. He’s an amazing listener, too, for lack of a better term. He has an uncanny skill for making Kurt feel like he’s the only other person not just in the room but in the entire world. He’s also gay, out, and extremely proud, a fact that makes Kurt do an internal cheer that may actually become a little external when Blaine’s back is turned. He may also text Mercedes a rather gloaty confirmation, which he isn’t entirely proud of but also doesn’t regret.

 

On the other hand, it’s extremely clear by the end of the afternoon that it didn’t even cross Blaine’s mind to view this as a date. Blaine is a tactile person, so there are casual hands on shoulders and elbows and even, once, Kurt’s wrist, when Blaine spotted an adorable butterfly brooch across the shop, but he never once moves to take Kurt’s hand. He tells Kurt he’s happy to finally have a friend who will give him real fashion advice. When the salesperson approaches them to check in, Blaine tells him, “My friend here is looking for a full-length mirror. Any chance you could accommodate us?”

 

Kurt tries really hard not to be crushed. After all, they just met. They’ve barely started getting to know each other. And, honestly, Kurt is pretty willing to take Blaine in his life however he can get him.

 

It’s harder to remember, in this environment, that he can’t make off-the-cuff remarks when Blaine’s back is turned or raise his voice to get Blaine’s attention and expect anything to happen. He feels like an idiot, but, fortunately, the salesperson is the only witness to his blundering – Blaine, of course, doesn’t know the difference.

 

By the end of the day, Kurt has gained three new brooches, a summer scarf, and a standing pre-ballet coffee date with Blaine.

 

All in all, he’s going to count it as a success.

 

&&&&&

 

It’s been two weeks since Kurt met Blaine, and they’ve flown by like a dream. Kurt has never once been this at ease in another person’s company so quickly after meeting them. There’s just something about Blaine – he gets it, gets Kurt, in a way that no one else in his life does. Maybe it’s the shared kinship of being out gay kids in small-town Ohio. Maybe it’s the extra care they have to put into communication or the great knack Blaine has for making him feel heard. Maybe it’s just _Blaine_. Either way, Kurt kind of feels like he’s halfway in love.

 

They’re at the Lima Bean, empty coffee cups pushed aside. Kurt’s hands are resting awkwardly on the table, just in case Blaine may feel the need to take one of them, and they’re laughing at something Kurt just said. Kurt’s cheeks feel stretched and tired, but he can’t stop smiling what he knows is not his most attractive smile.

 

A sudden shadow looms over the table. Kurt looks up quickly, and so does Blaine, Kurt can see it out of the corner of his eye. The smile is already starting to slip from his face.

 

It’s a boy of around their age, tall and lanky, with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s got chestnut brown hair styled in the fashion of a _Gossip Girl_ villain, and what looks like an elaborate hearing aid nestled behind one ear. His features are sharp and handsome and pulled into a distasteful smirk.

 

The boy’s eyes pass over Kurt briefly, dismissively, and then he turns to Blaine. He signs something quick that makes Blaine’s eyes narrow in annoyance.

 

“Sebastian, this is Kurt,” he says in response, smile stuck politely and firmly to his lips. “He just started dancing at the studio.”

 

Sebastian’s gaze shifts back to Kurt. Their eyes meet and Kurt realizes, all of a sudden – Sebastian looks familiar. He must take classes with Blaine. He signs something as he looks Kurt over, his smirk deepening to something truly unpleasant. Blaine shoots him a warning look and signs something back.

 

Sebastian rolls his eyes and scoffs.

 

“You’re blowing off your friends for some hearing kid who can’t even finger-spell?”

 

Kurt blinks – Sebastian’s speech is clear, crisp, not what Kurt was expecting.

 

“He’s not just ‘some hearing kid.’ He’s my friend.”

 

Sebastian signs something sharp, emphatic. Loud. Blaine clenches his jaw and signs back. It’s fascinating to watch – the shapes flow together, one to the next, so easily that Kurt can’t tell where one word ends and the next begins. Blaine’s face is part of it too, the movement of his eyebrows and his lips, the expression in his eyes, all of it coordinated to tell a much bigger story. It’s effortless for him, entirely natural to his body.

 

Blaine and Sebastian have an entire conversation, an angry one from the looks on their faces, and then Sebastian is turning on his heel without so much as a glance in Kurt’s direction.

 

“I am so sorry,” says Blaine, eyes wide with distress. “That was so rude.”

 

“It’s okay.” Kurt bites his lip. “It seemed like there was a lot of…history, there,” he says cautiously.

 

Blaine nods, relaxing slightly with the realization that Kurt isn’t angry with him. He’s quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

 

“Sebastian is very…protective of me.”

 

Possessive might be a better word, but Kurt knows better than to say that out loud. He waits for a moment for Blaine to expand on that, fill him in, but he doesn’t. He fiddles nervously with his empty cup, instead.

 

“So, you guys dance together?” Kurt prompts.

 

Blaine stills his hands.

 

“Since we were little. We go to school together, too. He’s my best friend.”

 

“Oh. So he’s, uh – ”

 

Kurt gestures vaguely at his ears, hoping desperately that he’s not turning as red as he feels.

 

“He’s Deaf, yeah.” Blaine smiles gently, amused. “It’s okay to say it Kurt.”

 

Now Kurt _knows_ he’s as red as he feels.

 

“Right. Of course. Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. You’re just trying to be careful. But being Deaf is actually something I’m really proud of, so it’s not like you have to tiptoe around it. If you have questions, you should ask them.”

 

The thing is, Kurt does. He has a million questions, and only some of them have to do with Blaine’s experience as a Deaf person. Blaine is looking at him expectantly, back straight, hands folded neatly together on top of the table.

 

“Alright. At the risk of sounding really ignorant, um…how does he…?”

 

Kurt trails off, because he can’t think of many ways to finish that that don’t sound really rude. Fortunately, Blaine picks up on what he’s trying to ask and doesn’t seem particularly offended.

 

“He has a cochlear implant,” he supplies patiently. “It’s this thing they put in your inner ear that sends electric signals to your brain and helps you hear. He had the surgery when he was a baby, so he learned to talk pretty much just like any hearing kid would.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“His parents are hearing, so it was really important to them that he learn to communicate orally.”

 

“What about you? Are your parents Deaf?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Like, _really_ Deaf. My whole family is, except for a couple of uncles on my mom’s side. You could probably find our picture next to Deaf Pride in the dictionary.”

 

Kurt nods slowly, digesting this information.

 

“Is it going to cause problems for you, that you’re spending so much time with a hearing person?”

 

Kurt isn’t sure if he really wants to know the answer, but something about the way Sebastian curled his lip around the words _hearing kid_ , as if it were a slur, makes him believe that it’s a question worth asking. He holds his breath and hopes that Blaine doesn’t notice.

 

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes widen.

 

“No, of course not! Sebastian is just – the things he was saying, they had nothing to do with you. Honest.” He reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand in his, earnest eyes never leaving Kurt’s face. “You really shouldn’t listen to him.”

 

Kurt isn’t entirely mollified, but there’s a big part of him that’s preening at this proof of his position in Blaine’s life, not to mention the warmth of Blaine’s skin and the tingle that zinged down Kurt’s spine the moment they touched.

 

He lets the topic slide.

 

&&&&&

 

As unpleasant as the encounter with Sebastian was, it does give Kurt a new perspective on things. He just keeps thinking about the fluid grace of Blaine’s body when he signed – no one could see that and call Blaine disabled, even hearing the effortful sluggishness of his tongue. He realizes that he really doesn’t know Blaine or his world at all.

 

He starts slow. He looks up conversational ASL on YouTube and subscribes to a few particularly helpful channels. He learns a few words and phrases and starts dropping them into conversation once he feels confident that he’s not going to say something accidentally offensive. Blaine is delighted and very gentle about correcting his form, which is encouraging. Kurt adds a few Deaf Culture blogs to his repertoire, too, and starts figuring out the answers to questions he didn’t even know he should be asking.

 

Even just that little bit of extra effort makes Blaine open to him in a way that he hadn’t, before.

 

“You’re really amazing, you know that, Kurt?” he says fondly.

Kurt hems and haws, because, yeah, he is, but it isn’t because he’s managed to pick up a toddler’s vocabulary in ASL.

 

“No, you are,” Blaine insists. “Most hearing people don’t bother. It’s like, I’m the one with the problem, so I’m the one who should put in the work. Not even the guys at the studio can do more than finger-spell their names, and I’ve known them since I was a kid.”

 

Blaine starts signing back, too, just single words that he forms deliberately and slowly, with a look of the deepest patience. He even gives Kurt his own name sign.

 

“It’s _style_ with a _k_ ,” he explains, demonstrating. “For obvious reasons.” He’s grinning, satisfied with himself.

 

“ _Style_ , really?”

 

Blaine’s grin fades a little.

 

“You don’t like it?”

 

“Oh, no, of course I – I mean, I love it. I just – wouldn’t something like _future Tony winner_ be a little more a propos?”

 

Blaine looks at him blankly. “Apo – what?”

 

“A propos. Um. Appropriate.”

 

“Ah. Well, unfortunately for you, your name sign has to be given to you by a Deaf person. You don’t get any say.”

 

Kurt smiles – he can’t help himself, seeing the teasing glint in Blaine’s eyes.

 

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“I didn’t make up the rules.”

 

“Who gave you yours?”

 

Blaine gives a short, long-suffering sigh, some of the mirth leeching from his smile.

 

“My brother. He was ten at the time. I have no idea why my parents let him get away with it.”

 

Blaine rolls his eyes. Kurt cocks his head, curious. He’s seen it before, Blaine’s name sign, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why it would be remotely embarrassing.

 

“What is it again?”

 

Blaine shows him, quick and practiced. Kurt tries it, and feels clumsy.

 

“Start with a _b_ ,” instructs Blaine, demonstrating. Kurt follows. “And then like this.” He draws his hand down from his ear with a little wiggle that Kurt starts to get after a couple of tries under Blaine’s tutelage.

 

“What does it mean?” he asks, once he’s got it.

 

“It’s _gold_ , with a _b_.”

 

“Like your eyes?” Kurt says without thinking. Blaine blinks, startled. Kurt wishes he could erase the last thirty seconds, or at least the dreamy look he knows is in his own eyes.

 

“No. Though, um, thank you, no one’s ever described them that way before. It was, um. Cooper, his life’s ambition was to win a Golden Globe, and he decided that I was going to be his lucky charm. So, _gold_.”

 

Blaine’s smile is shy this time, flustered. Kurt melts a little.

 

“Well, it suits you,” he says.

 

They start spending time together on weekends, eventually, and then on the days when Kurt doesn’t have his class. Blaine spends a good five to eight hours per day in the studio, so it’s not always easy, but soon enough they’re seeing each other every day. Coffee, lunches, shopping trips, picnics in the park, marathons of closed-captioned reality television, it doesn’t matter – Kurt finds the time, and if he can’t, he makes it.

 

It kind of feels like dating, actually, or what Kurt imagines dating would be like, minus the tender goodnight kisses.

 

He’s tempted sometimes to lean in and purse his lips and see what happens, but the idea of Blaine laughing in his face is far too terrible for him to follow through. Things are good the way they are – better than good – and Kurt has no desire to rock this particular boat.

 

If he looks up the sign for _I love you_ , well, it’s no one’s business but his own. He makes sure to clear his search history before Blaine comes over.

 

&&&&&

 

If Kurt had thought about it, he would have expected to see Sebastian here again. In fact, now that he has, he’s surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Their last encounter felt more…ominous than anything else. So it’s with a great deal more annoyance than shock that Kurt plasters on a smile and pointedly doesn’t tell Sebastian to go away when he pulls up a chair and slides so close to Blaine that he can drape an arm over the back of his chair.

 

He glances at Kurt.

 

“Oh, hey,” he says, signing lazily with his free hand as he speaks. “Didn’t see you there.”

 

“Hello, Sebastian,” Kurt says through gritted teeth.

 

Sebastian turns, dismissive, and signs something clearly intended for Blaine’s eyes only. Kurt catches something about _hearing_ that he assumes is meant to refer to him, but he’s used to Blaine’s slowed, exaggerated signing, and all the words seem to run together. It can’t be anything good, though, because Blaine levels Sebastian a look and says, pointedly, “His name is Kurt. You should try using it.” He signs it for Sebastian, who laughs unkindly and signs something back that only makes Blaine’s expression sour further.

 

“Oh, please. Coming from you, that’s practically a compliment. I’ve actually seen you wear three popped collars at the same time.”

 

Sebastian just looks at him, in a way that Kurt isn’t sure is more offended or impressed. It settles, finally, on fond, and Sebastian’s ever-present smirk actually starts to shift into a real smile. They exchange a rapid flurry of signs, until Kurt, feeling a need to remind them of his presence, waves his hand into their eye line.

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, “but Kurt is also actually right in front of you and has his own voice. And, well…hands,” he finishes lamely.

 

Blaine looks chagrinned. Sebastian snorts.

 

“I’m so sorry,” says Blaine. “That was rude.”

 

Sebastian doesn’t acknowledge him. He pulls out his wallet and hands Blaine a twenty, instead.

 

“Looks like you could use a refill,” he says, deliberate and loud. “Get me a cappuccino while you’re at it?”

 

He smiles what Kurt supposes is meant to be a charming smile. Blaine shakes his head in exaggerated exasperation, but his mouth is tugging up in the corners. He shoots Kurt a questioning glance – _will you be okay?_ he seems to ask. Kurt nods stiffly.

 

It isn’t until Blaine is at the counter that Sebastian turns around to face Kurt. He folds his arms over his chest and just stares for a moment, so smug that Kurt has to put in serious effort not to fidget under his gaze. Or slap him upside the head.

 

“It’s so cute that you think you have a chance with him,” says Sebastian.

 

Kurt gapes, equal parts shocked and embarrassed. “What?” he says dumbly.

 

“He’s so out of your league it’s laughable.”

 

Kurt sputters. It’s not his proudest moment. He juts up his chin and says, as haughtily as he can manage, “What makes you think I – ”

 

“Oh, please,” Sebastian scoffs. “You swoon like a pre-teen girl at a Beatles concert every time he looks in your direction. Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s noticed. I’m pretty sure he just thinks that’s your face.”

 

He leans back, thoroughly pleased with himself. There’s something feline about the way he’s looking at Kurt, a cat toying with its prey.

 

Kurt bristles. He’s no one’s prey.

 

“You’re not exactly Mr. Subtlety yourself,” he grits out.

 

Sebastian straightens, the look in his eyes going sharp and cutting. He doesn’t take Kurt’s bait.

 

“Blaine is too good for you. I hope you know that. _He_ certainly does, even though he’d never admit it. He’s never going to look at you and your hard luck case of the gay face and see anything but a charity case.”

 

Kurt’s gut twists hot with rage, but he manages to raise his eyebrows coolly.

 

“No wonder nothing has ever happened between the two of you, if this is how you treat his friends. Or maybe he just doesn’t go for guys with giant horse teeth.”

 

It’s a risk – Blaine has never actually detailed his history with Sebastian to Kurt – but it’s one that pays off. Sebastian stares at him, smirk contorting with anger. His eyes flash. He leans forward, done with the games.

 

“I’m his friend. His _best_ friend. What are you?” He pauses, drawing it out for maximum impact. Kurt clenches his fists and waits for the blow, determined not to buckle. “You’re nothing. You’re worth less to him than a cheap summer fling. He’s going to forget you even exist the second he steps off the plane.”

 

“Plane?”

 

It slips out, in a moment of honest confusion. Kurt knows it was a mistake, because Sebastian’s smirk returns, full force.

 

“You don’t know, do you?” he crows.

 

“Don’t know what?”

 

They both startle, and turn to Blaine’s voice. He’s looking between the two of them, wary and confused, and Kurt really hopes he wasn’t watching them the whole time, because he’s fairly certain that they resembled nothing more than a couple of tom cats scrapping for territory.

 

Sebastian signs something, and Blaine relaxes. He sets down his coffee and Sebastian’s and settles himself into his chair. Sebastian’s arm immediately creeps back up behind him.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d told you,” says Blaine, smile warm and apologetic and directed at Kurt.

 

“Know _what_?” says Kurt, trying so very hard not to let Blaine see the depth of his frustration.

 

“I’m moving to New York this fall to study at the Joffrey,” says Blaine, brightly.

 

Kurt feels himself go suddenly cold.

 

“He got a scholarship,” adds Sebastian.

 

“That’s – I mean, that’s amazing, Blaine,” says Kurt, lamely. “What about school?”

 

“They have a whole program in place for high school students working toward their diplomas. They even offered to provide me with a full-time ASL interpreter.”

 

“They knew that Blaine was too good for Nowheresville, Ohio,” says Sebastian, eyes on Kurt. “Just like I always have.”

 

Blaine smiles affectionately up at Sebastian and signs something quick and one-handed that Kurt doesn’t catch. Kurt waits until Blaine’s attention is on him again, and then he forces his smile as wide as it will go before he starts to look serial-killer scary.

 

“Congratulations. No one deserves it more.”

 

Blaine smiles that far-too-grateful smile of his. He signs his thank you.

 

Kurt suddenly feels overwhelmed with the need to get away. He makes his excuses and avoids Blaine’s wide, earnest eyes and Sebastian’s entire smirky meerkat face and just kind of feels numb all the way home.

 

He watches _Moulin Rouge_ alone in his room and lets himself cry. He’s perfectly dry-eyed by the time his dad gets home from work.

 

&&&&&

 

In a funny way, knowing that Blaine is moving to New York at the end of the summer, probably permanently, takes away a great deal of the pressure Kurt has been piling onto their relationship. Even if Blaine were to suddenly wake up to Kurt’s boyfriend potential, the way that Kurt has been wishing for all along, it isn’t as if he would want to start something romantic between them just before he leaves. Their options at this point would be torrid summer affair or long-distance relationship, and Kurt is fairly certain that either scenario would end in heartbreak for the both of them.

 

So, after a short period of mourning for the great romance that never was, Kurt sets out newly determined to appreciate Blaine’s actual place in his life and build a friendship between them that’s solid enough to weather a year apart.

 

Sebastian may have won the battle, but Kurt will be damned if he doesn’t win the war.

 

He starts by doubling down on the ASL – he bookmarks a reliable online dictionary and adds to his collection of YouTube channels and carves out at least an hour every night for practice. It’s hard, harder than learning French, because he has to learn all of the movements backwards and his fingers are so much more easily tangled than his tongue, but it’s worth it for the smile Blaine shoots him every time he masters something new.

 

They’re at Kurt’s house one evening, idly watching some Jersey Shore and trading commentary in a jumbled mix of ASL and English (mostly English, but at least Kurt is trying). It’s Blaine’s early day at the studio, so he’s been here for a few hours, long enough for them to go through several pitchers of Kurt’s homemade strawberry lemonade. He’s right there, next to Kurt, close enough to reach out and manipulate Kurt’s fingers into position if he gets a sign wrong and can’t seem to correct it on his own.

 

It tends to happen a lot.

 

They’ve somehow managed to move close enough together that their shoulders are touching, and their thighs. It’s a light, skimming touch, but Kurt feels it all the same.

 

Kurt’s dad and Carole are puttering around in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner, and Finn is out with Rachel. Blaine is trying to teach Kurt how to say important things such as “guido” and “spray tan,” but the both of them are stuck in a giddy laughing jag that they can’t seem to get out of.

 

Suddenly, Kurt hears a throat clear behind them. He looks, and Blaine follows his lead.

 

It’s Kurt’s dad, watching them with an expression that Kurt knows to read as amused but may not be so clear to Blaine. Blaine straightens up and arranges his own expression to be as polite as he can manage, given the undignified bark of laughter that’s just died in his throat.

 

“Dinner’s up,” says Kurt’s dad, mild as can be. He raises his eyebrows eloquently at Kurt and heads back to the dining room, a slight smile playing at his lips.

 

Blaine turns to Kurt, wide-eyed. “Should I go?” he says.

 

 _No, you stay dinner,_ Kurt signs laboriously, on a bolt of inspiration. _Dad no scary, promise_.

 

Blaine smiles.

 

 _Okay_.

 

It’s clearly much harder for Blaine to follow the conversation when there are three mouths to watch instead of just one, two of which have no qualms at all about speaking and chewing simultaneously. Blaine doesn’t get discouraged, though. He has no problem telling them when he doesn’t catch something or directing them, in his charming Blaine way, to slow down, face him, swallow first, whatever it is he thinks will help. Kurt can tell that his parents are impressed with Blaine’s forthrightness, if not a little surprised.

 

“So, Blaine,” says Kurt’s dad, once the day’s small talk has been cleared out of the way. He’s being careful, Kurt is happy to see, to look Blaine in the eye as he talks. “Kurt tells us you got a scholarship to some fancy school in New York.”

 

Blaine nods happily.

 

“The Joffrey,” he says. “It’s one of the best pre-professional programs in the country.”

 

“You must be a wonderful dancer,” adds Carole, but she’s sitting on Blaine’s periphery, and his eyes are focused elsewhere.

 

There’s a moment of awkward silence, until Kurt mutters to her, “You have to get his attention first.”

 

Blaine’s smile is starting to falter under the weight of the long silence. Carole taps him awkwardly on the arm and offers him a warm smile.

 

“You must be a wonderful dancer,” she repeats.

 

Blaine ducks his head a little, obviously pleased, but bashful all the same.

 

“I work hard,” he says. “Kurt’s been getting pretty good, too,” he adds, with smile aimed in Kurt’s direction. Kurt knows that it’s partially just a deflection, but Blaine said the same thing the last time he caught a few minutes of Kurt’s class, and the admiration in his eyes feels really good. He signs his thanks, then says it out loud for the benefit of his parents.

 

Kurt’s dad claps him on the shoulder.

 

“Yeah, well, my boy’s good at anything he sets his mind to,” he says with an almost embarrassing amount of pride.

 

This, of course, leads to discussion of Kurt’s brief stints as game-winning kicker and national champion cheerleader, and then, before Kurt understands what’s happening, his dad and Blaine are somehow embroiled in passionate debate over OSU’S starting lineup for the coming football season. Kurt tries to contribute, but his lack of any real interest or knowledge is painfully apparent.

 

By the end of the meal, Blaine has Kurt’s parents wrapped completely around his little finger, and Kurt is pretty sure the feeling is mutual. After the clean-up, which Blaine insists on helping with, of course, Kurt’s parents drift into the living room, making it clear that they are attempting to give the two of them some privacy. Kurt’s a little embarrassed that they seem to have the wrong idea, but he isn’t unhappy to have Blaine to himself again.

 

Kurt is just about to open his mouth and suggest they watch something in his room when Blaine signs something. It’s longer, more complicated than Kurt is used to, but he picks up the gist.

 

_\--- outside --- stars?_

 

Kurt can’t nod fast enough. He’s always loved stargazing.

 

 _Yes_ , he signs. “Um…blanket?”

 

Blaine shows him the sign, and Kurt imitates it – right on the first try, for once. He must be getting good at this.

 

“I’ll get one from upstairs,” he says. Blaine nods his understanding.

 

Soon enough they’re stretched out side by side on Kurt’s best picnic blanket with a bowl of leftover strawberries and nothing but the faint light from the kitchen window to illuminate their hands as they talk. They’re practically forced to sign, in this position, but Kurt’s vocabulary has gotten big enough that he can muddle through, even if his signing does kind of resemble caveman-speak. Besides, half the joy of star-gazing is the silence.

 

Blaine signs something into the air above their faces. Kurt catches the word _peace_ , he thinks.

 

 _Again?_ he asks, to be sure.

 

“It’s so peaceful out here, isn’t it?” Blaine voices, on a sigh. He yawns.

 

_Yes. Tired?_

 

 _Very_.

 

_Hard…dance, today?_

 

_Hard…_ Kurt’s hands kind of flail around as he tries to think of how to say this delicately. _…hearing people?_ he finishes lamely.

 

“Is it hard, being around hearing people?” Blaine clarifies, surprised. It’s difficult to tell by the tone of his voice whether or not he’s offended.

 

_Sometimes. --- tiring --- groups._ “It’s worth it, though. Your parents are wonderful.” He signs as he speaks, slowly.

 

_I know. They, you too. You…lots Deaf friends?_

 

_Yes. --- friends --- school. I don’t know many hearing people --- dance._

 

_Hard, New York?_

 

_Maybe. You --- good practice._

 

 _You, no need. Speak…good_. Kurt shakes his head at himself. _Beautifully_ , he wants to say.

 

_Thank you. --- speech ---. --- happy ---._

 

It’s too fast, contains too many signs that Kurt doesn’t know.

 

 _Again, please?_ he signs.

 

Blaine complies. “I never missed a day of speech therapy,” he says as he signs. “I’m glad it paid off.”

 

 _You, kid…hearing school?_ Kurt attempts.

 

“Did I go to a mainstream school when I was a kid?”

 

_No, I --- Deaf school ---. My parents --- speech. --- my idea --- ballet._

_Your idea, speech?_

 

“I wanted to make friends with the other kids at ballet.”

 

Kurt pauses, not sure if he should say what he wants to say next.

 

_You, Sebastian, ballet?_

 

He does it anyway.

 

_Yes. We --- seven --- ASL._

_You, he, ASL?_

 

Blaine’s hands pause. Kurt meets his eyes, for the first time since they started talking. His face is close, and his body closer. Kurt would swear that there’s starlight in his eyes.

 

“He didn’t know ASL when we met. His parents…they never bothered learning, and they discouraged him from learning, too. They treated him like a hearing kid who was born defective.”

 

His voice doesn’t show his anger, but his face does. He’s so expressive, and so _close_.

 

“That’s horrible,” Kurt says, because it is, and because Blaine’s anger is something they can share.

 

“They’re better now. I mean, they let him enroll at Haverbrook, but they still don’t really…get it, you know?”

 

Kurt nods. He doesn’t really know, he couldn’t, but he thinks about his own father and the way he’s worked so hard to make Kurt feel accepted, just the way he is, like he doesn’t have to change a thing to be exactly who his dad wants him to be, and he can relate.

 

“It’s good that he has you.”

 

Blaine smiles, and Kurt could just look at him forever. Blaine turns back to the stars. His profile is sharp and soft and just as beautiful.

 

Kurt turns away, too, reluctantly.

 

The night is silent but for the chirping of the crickets and the quiet, steady in-out of Blaine’s breathing. He wonders what it would be like, to hear nothing at all. If it would be somehow more peaceful. He turns to get Blaine’s attention, but he stops himself.

 

Blaine has his eyes closed. His breath is deep, and even. He must have been more tired than he let on. Kurt moves close enough that their arms touch, and he looks, for just a minute, at Blaine’s face, relaxed in sleep. He closes his own eyes before things can progress to Edward Cullen levels of creepy, but he’s too attuned to Blaine’s body next to his, too wired. He turns back to the night sky and falls into rhythm with Blaine’s breathing and doesn’t wake him until his father comes out to say goodnight.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt has never met Blaine’s parents. It hits him one day, when Blaine has gone home after yet another Hummel-Hudson family dinner. Blaine and Kurt’s dad have practically become best friends, and Kurt has never even seen a photo of Blaine’s parents. Or his brother, now that Kurt is thinking about it.

 

It doesn’t matter, particularly, except for the fact that it’s kind of strange. And that, of course, has Kurt thinking that there’s maybe a reason for it, and then he has to tamp down the paranoia or risk freaking poor Blaine out.

 

He starts paying closer attention when Blaine mentions one of them, and asking hopefully-not-too-casual follow-up questions. He starts suggesting that they hang out at Blaine’s house so that they can take advantage of the big-screen, closed-captioned TV rather than relying on Kurt’s DVD collection. Blaine agrees, happily, but his house always seems to be empty.

 

It’s thanks to these efforts that Kurt finds himself in Blaine’s living room one Wednesday evening. They’re lounging on the couch, at opposite ends, with a bowl of popcorn between them and an episode of America’s Next Top Model playing on the TV. Blaine is wiped from a long day at the studio, so much so that he’s still wearing the sweatpants he changed into after his shower in the locker room. Kurt is trying to covertly study the wedding photo on the mantel, but Blaine’s parents’ faces are indistinct from this distance. Clearly lovely, of course – the people who contributed to Blaine’s DNA could be nothing less.

 

It’s the only photo in the room, maybe the only one in the house. They don’t even have tacky family portraits displayed in the stairwell. Instead, the walls are decorated with tastefully framed artwork – charcoals, watercolors, oils, even some cool mixed-media pieces, clearly chosen by somebody with a discerning eye for color and texture. The house is neater than Kurt’s own, full of bright, open spaces and polished hardwoods. And yet, there’s a certain lived-in warmth that makes it clear that a family lives here. Even if they don’t, apparently, see much of each other at all.

 

Kurt turns his attention back to the screen. Tyra is just about to reveal the bottom two. It’s an episode that Kurt has seen before, so he’s not exactly on the edge of his seat, but Blaine is completely riveted. He’s munching his popcorn, one at a time, in a way that can only be described as intense. And completely adorable.

 

Suddenly, the front door slams. It jolts Kurt to attention. Blaine looks up, too, alerted by Kurt’s sudden movement.

 

 _\--- my dad_ , he signs. He turns his attention back to the screen, where Tyra is still taking her sweet time. Kurt watches the entryway, nervously, out of the corner of his eye.

 

Soon enough, a man rounds the corner, and Kurt would have no doubts as to his identity even if Blaine hadn’t said a word. Blaine’s father is of medium height and build, maybe half an inch taller than Blaine, with a stern set to his mouth that contrasts with the fine laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. He’s wearing standard office attire in uninspired navy, his tie slightly crooked and his dark hair starting to wilt from its neat style.

 

 _Hi, Dad,_ Blaine signs. His dad signs something incredibly fast, of which Kurt only catches the word _Blaine_. Blaine signs back, just as fast, and turns to Kurt with a smile. He signs Kurt’s name, in what Kurt takes to be an introduction. _Kurt, this is my dad_ , he adds slowly.

 

 _Nice to meet you…_ Kurt trails off, trying not to panic at the fact that he has no idea what to call Blaine’s father. Blaine takes pity on him. He finger-spells _D-a-v-i-d_ , then follows it up with what Kurt assumes is his father’s name sign. It’s a word that Kurt doesn’t know, formed with his hand in the shape of a _d_. _Nice to meet you, David_ , Kurt amends, feeling slightly awkward at addressing a man in such a clearly expensive suit so informally.

 

 _Likewise_. The look on Mr. Anderson’s face is inscrutable. He signs something else, too fast for Kurt to follow. He catches _Blaine_ again, but the rest is a blur. He must look just as he feels, like a deer caught in the headlights, because Mr. Anderson slows, and trails off. He smiles tightly.

 

 _Sorry_ , he says. _I forgot --- signing_.

 

 _\--- one month_ , signs Blaine, and it’s so painfully slow that the pride in Blaine’s eyes as he beams at Kurt is absurd.

 

Mr. Anderson nods, eyes slightly narrowed and roaming over Kurt’s face, as if trying to read something there that Kurt doesn’t know he’s written. Mr. Anderson turns his attention back to Blaine with a flick of his gaze. They have a brief conversation while Kurt tries his hardest not to feel dismissed.

 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Blaine asks, and the sound of his voice is so sudden that Kurt startles. He hesitates, glancing at Mr. Anderson. He looks neither welcoming nor particularly unwelcoming.

 

 _Yes_ , Kurt signs, because it’s really the only answer that makes sense. The smile that blooms over Blaine’s face only confirms it.

 

 _Awesome_.

 

&&&&&

 

Blaine’s father ends up recruiting them to start on dinner while he decompresses from his day.

 

“What does he do again?” asks Kurt, as he pulls salad ingredients from the Andersons’ crisper. He has to look over his shoulder and almost tips over onto his ass, but at least Blaine gets the message.

 

“He’s in advertising. He’s an art director for this huge firm based out of Columbus. He pretty much runs the Lima branch.”

 

Kurt perks up. He rises carefully to his feet, arms laden with vegetables.

 

“Is that the one in the high-rise next to Breadstix? Shiny gold sign, starts with an ‘M’?”

 

Kurt’s been nearly blinded by that sign on more than one occasion, but he can at least appreciate the audacity of it.

 

Blaine nods.

 

“That’s the one. Midas Advertising.”

 

“Has he done any campaigns I might be familiar with?”

 

“Oh. Um, maybe. His print ads for freecreditratingtoday.com ran nationally.”

 

Blaine isn’t looking, so he doesn’t see the way Kurt’s face lights up. Kurt sets down his vegetables, hurriedly, and waves his hand for Blaine’s attention.

 

“Oh, my god, I love those ads! I had the one that ran in People as my phone background for months.” Mostly for the sake of the very handsome model, but Blaine doesn’t need to know that.

 

Blaine smiles uncomfortably.

 

“I’ll tell him,” he says, and then he’s changing the topic so quickly that it gives Kurt whiplash.

 

It’s okay – Kurt is happy to talk about the things he’s been learning in his dance class, especially as it leads to a demonstration of Blaine’s perfect pirouette in the middle of the kitchen – but it is a little disconcerting. Something about that conversation must have hit one of Blaine’s rare sore spots.

 

“Will your mother be joining us?” Kurt asks, as he sets out the placemats.

 

“She should be home soon. She makes her own hours in the summer, so she’s usually home pretty late.”

 

 _Her job?_ signs Kurt. He hopes the quizzical look on his face will fill in the blanks.

 

“She’s the principal at Haverbrook.”

 

_Good for you, yes? No trouble._

 

Blaine laughs.

 

 _I ---_ , he signs.

 

Kurt raises his eyebrows in question.

 

“I wish,” Blaine voices, as he signs it again. “I once skipped my afternoon classes so that I could go to this pas de deux workshop in Columbus. She put me on Saturday detention for a month.”

 

“Like _The Breakfast Club_?”

 

Blaine cocks his head.

 

“The what?”

 

 _B-r-e-a-k-f-a-s-t C-l-u-b_.

 

 _Right_ , says Blaine. _Yes._ “Except I was the only one there.”

 

Kurt grimaces sympathetically.

 

Blaine’s father wanders in soon enough, dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, hair still damp from the shower. He’s wearing thick-rimmed glasses that suit his face surprisingly well. He acknowledges Kurt, then turns to sign with Blaine. Kurt busies himself stirring the sauce they have simmering on the stove. He can hear the occasional slap of hands hitting hands when one of them becomes particularly emphatic. He checks on the chicken and turns down the heat.

 

Suddenly, Mr. Anderson – David – is there next to him, dipping a spoon into the sauce.

 

 _\--- more ---_ , he signs with his free hand.

 

 _More…?_ returns Kurt, tentatively.

 

David signs it again, more slowly. Kurt still isn’t getting it. David doesn’t sigh, but it’s clearly not because he doesn’t want to. He finger-spells _g-i-n-g-e-r_.

 

 _You always --- more ginger_ , signs Blaine, with a good-natured roll of the eyes.

 

 _\--- your grandmother_.

 

David goes to the fridge, presumably for the ginger root.

 

 _She was a ---, c-h-e-f_ , explains Blaine. _She always said her secret --- never --- too much ginger_.

 

Kurt hears the sound of the garage door opening. He looks toward the sound instinctively, and Blaine follows his gaze.

 

 _I think your mom is home_ , says Kurt, and he’s pretty proud of the fact that he actually managed to put together a full sentence. Blaine looks impressed, too.

 

 _Look --- your ears are --- good for something_ , he signs, with a wink that makes Kurt bite his lip against a silly smile. He sees David watching them, out of the corner of his eye. _Let’s get everything into the ---, w-o-k_ , continues Blaine.

 

Blaine’s mother comes into view just as David is adding the last of the veggies. She’s a tiny woman, petite, but there’s nothing delicate about the way she carries herself. Her outfit is both chic and simple, a well-tailored pencil skirt worn with a sleeveless blouse and a pair of practical pumps. Her understated color scheme is brought to life with accents in a vibrant turquoise that highlights the flecks of green in her eyes and complements the lovely olive tone of her skin. Her hair is loose, dark and thick and cut in long layers that emphasize her natural wave. Her styling has somehow remained polished even after a long day in the August sun.

 

 _\--- smells ---_ , she signs rapidly. The look on her face can only be described as blissful.

 

 _Thank you_ , says Blaine. _We had help_.

 

He gestures to Kurt, who waves shyly. She turns her attention to him, her gaze somehow both sharp and friendly.

 

 _Oh, I didn’t see you there, --- rude ---_. She smiles, warm and charming, the same smile Kurt has seen on her son a hundred times. _I’m G-l-o-r-i-a, ---_. This last, Kurt takes to be her name sign: _gift_ , with a _g_.

 

 _K-u-r-t, Kurt_.

 

 _Lovely to meet you_ , she says, taking care to sign at a speed he can follow. _Blaine --- told us --- about you_.

 

 _Good things_ , puts in Blaine.

 

Kurt smiles.

 

 _Nice to meet you, too_ , he says.

 

She greets her husband with a peck on the lips and an exchange of signs that Kurt has no hope of following, then turns to pat Blaine on the cheek with an affectionate smile.

 

 _I’m going to --- and clean up_ , she signs.

 

Blaine nods.

 

 _Dinner --- ten minutes_ , he says.

 

The three of them work in a comfortable silence as they put the finishing touches on dinner, even though Kurt feels a little odd, being at the stove without a soundtrack to move to. He finds himself humming “Last Friday Night” under his breath. Neither Blaine nor his father notices, of course. They do, however, notice the shimmying of his hips as he moves to the beat. Blaine grins and shimmies right back.

 

Finally, dinner is served. Kurt contents himself just to watch them talk, at first, while his hands are occupied with eating. There’s something beautiful about the way they communicate, a give and take that flows like a dance.

 

There’s a lull, eventually. Blaine smiles at him, checking in, and Kurt smiles back. Bolstered, Kurt takes a deep breath and steels himself to make a comment about their home’s lovely interior design, a six-word sentence that he spent the last fifteen minutes constructing in his head, but Gloria turns the force of her focus onto him before he can so much as set his fork beside his plate.

 

 _Blaine --- you dance?_ she signs. Her face is just as expressive as Blaine’s, but there’s something more…practiced about the kindly curve of her lip.

 

 _A little. I started…June_ , says Kurt, slowly.

 

 _You --- met ---_.

 

Kurt looks to Blaine, uncertain.

 

“Sebastian,” he says, then demonstrates the sign again. Kurt recognizes it this time – _long_ with an _s_. He smiles in spite of himself. Blaine grins.

 

 _We were seven_ , he explains. _He had really long legs_.

 

Blaine’s parents chuckle fondly.

 

 _Yes, we met_ , signs Kurt. He keeps it at that.

 

David signs something, then, that seems to be a question from the look on his face. Kurt only caught the very unhelpful words _I_ and _him_.

 

 _He --- working a lot_ , says Blaine.

 

 _I didn’t know he ---_ , signs Gloria.

 

 _\--- job at his dad’s ---_. Blaine glances over at Kurt. _O-f-f-i-c-e_ , he spells. _He --- money --- car_.

 

Kurt can feel his smile going stale. There’s only so much polite stretching of the lips he can manage on the subject of Sebastian.

 

Gloria frowns. She signs something that Kurt is pretty sure contains the words _why_ and _father_.

 

Blaine looks a little uncomfortable. He glances at Kurt, again.

 

_He thought --- look good --- college ---._

_\--- he knows --- come here --- needs ---._

 

Blaine smiles, grateful if a little tense, and nods. Gloria turns back to Kurt. Her smile is perfectly in place, as if it had never left.

 

Kurt is pretty sure that his own is starting to look deranged.

 

_So, Kurt, --- your parents ---?_

 

 _Parents…job?_ asks Kurt, to clarify. Gloria smiles patiently and nods. _Dad…works cars, m-e-c-h-a-n-i-c. Stepmother is n-u-r-s-e_.

 

_\--- hospital?_

_L-i-m-a M-e-m-o-r-i-a-l._

_That’s wonderful._

_She likes._

_Where do you go to school?_

Kurt sighs, inwardly. He kind of hates having to finger-spell everything.

 

_M-c-K-i-n-l-e-y._

_Do you do any ---?_

“Extracurriculars,” Blaine supplies. His mother shoots him a look that Kurt doesn’t know how to read. Blaine ignores it.

 

 _Yes_ , says Kurt. _I sing, do g-l-e-e_.

 

_Oh, yes. I remember, we --- you --- last year._

_S-e-c-t-i-o-n-a-l-s?_ Kurt guesses, uncertain.

_Yes, you --- us. B-e-a-t,_ she supplies, when it becomes clear that she’s lost him. She looks good-natured enough, but Kurt is wary.

 

 _You were good_ , he says politely. Even though you totally stole our set list and screwed us over, he doesn’t add. Even if Gloria did know about that, it wouldn’t exactly make appropriate dinner conversation.

 

 _Do you know where --- college?_ she asks.

 

 _I want N-Y-A-D-A_ , he says, then flounders, because his vocabulary has reached its limits. He glances at Blaine, who doesn’t hesitate to come to his rescue.

 

 _\--- theater school in New York_ , he explains, with an encouraging smile for Kurt. _The best theater school ---._

 

_You want --- actor?_

 

Kurt nods. _Yes. B-r-o-a-d-w-a-y_.

 

Gloria smiles warmly.

 

_\--- you and Blaine get along ---. He --- lives --- stage._

 

_He’s very talented._

 

 _Yes, he is. We’re very ---, p-r-o-u-d_.

 

She shoots Blaine a fond look. Blaine smiles and ducks his head, mouth working to hold back the full force of his happiness. Kurt kind of wishes he wouldn’t.

 

 _Your home is beautiful_ , he says, probably too abruptly, once Gloria’s attention has returned to him. _You have an eye for d-e-s-i-g-n_.

 

Gloria tilts her head in confusion. _An eye?_

 

Kurt freezes. Oh, god, is that not the right sign? Did he just say something totally horrible and inappropriate to Blaine’s mother?

 

“That expression doesn’t really work in ASL,” says Blaine gently, eyes lit with amusement. “You have to be more literal.”

 

“Ah. Um. Right.” Oh, god. _You have…talent…for_ _d-e-s-i-g-n_ , he attempts.

 

Gloria smiles graciously. Thank god.

 

 _Thank you_. _But it’s --- David ---. He --- home --- art ---_.

 

Kurt blinks.

 

 _David choose art?_ he hazards.

 

“My dad likes to use our house as his own personal art gallery,” clarifies Blaine.

 

His mother purses her lips and signs something to Blaine crisply. He narrows his eyes.

 

_I know ---. I was --- help._

_You don’t need --- home._

 

Blaine glances at Kurt, clearly embarrassed.

 

_\--- nothing wrong --- easier._

_We’ll talk about this later_ , she says, effectively ending the conversation. She shares a meaningful glance with David. Blaine rolls his eyes and goes back to his food. There’s a tight sort of sullenness about the set of his mouth that seems…out of character, actually.

 

 _David --- artist_ , Gloria signs to Kurt, her smile, too, starting to show some strain.

 

Kurt hopes his face is hiding his unflattering surprise – he really wouldn’t have guessed that David Anderson had a creative bone in his body.

 

 _You’re very good. I like…colors_ , he finishes lamely, because “Your use of color and texture is compelling” is something he has no notion of how to say.

 

 _Thank you_ , signs David politely.

 

The tension dissipates pretty quickly after that, and the rest of the meal is pleasant enough, even if Blaine remains uncharacteristically quiet. Kurt offers to help clean up, but Gloria waves him off.

 

_Cooks don’t clean. It’s --- rule._

 

Kurt and Blaine retreat up to Blaine’s room.

 

“I’m so sorry about that,” says Blaine, the moment they’re behind closed doors. His eyes are wide and remorseful and a little bit ashamed, but Kurt feels like he’s still in the dark.

 

“Sorry about what, exactly?”

 

“Just – I mean, they’ve always been weird about my hearing friends, but I didn’t think they’d be so rude.”

 

“No, it’s – it was fine, it – ”

 

“No, it wasn’t. I told them you’ve only just started signing. Interpreting for you is common courtesy. I mean, you’re at least making an effort, which is more than I can say for them.”

 

Kurt doesn’t quite know what to say to that. Blaine’s assessment seems pretty…harsh, but it’s not like Kurt was really picking up the nuances of the conversation. Blaine is looking around his room, gaze flicking everywhere and landing nowhere. His arms are crossed, fingers gripping white-knuckled around his biceps, and his jaw is clenched with frustration. Kurt reaches out, cautiously, and touches his shoulder in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

 

_I don’t understand. E-x-p-l-a-i-n, please?_

Blaine sighs.

 

 _Shall we sit?_ he signs, gesturing at his neatly-made bed.

 

They settle cross-legged, facing each other, close enough that their knees touch.

 

“My parents…” Blaine starts, slowly. “They don’t voice. Which is fine, it’s their choice. They have other ways of communicating with hearing people, if they need to. They both grew up in Deaf families, had Deaf friends, went to Deaf schools, so it’s not like it was ever a big deal for them. I pretty much had to beg them to take me to speech therapy when I was a kid. They thought I would be better off spending the time, I don’t know, riding my bike or reading a book or something.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I think…they didn’t want me to get the message that I needed to be fixed.”

 

Kurt nods his understanding.

 

“Why did it matter so much to you?” he asks.

 

Blaine looks down for a moment, but then he meets Kurt’s eyes dead on.

 

“I didn’t like the way the other kids looked at me, when I tried to make friends. Like they thought I was stupid.”

 

Kurt’s heart breaks. He can see that it cost Blaine to admit that. He wants to reach out, to comfort, but he doesn’t. Blaine isn’t finished.

 

“My parents are Deaf and proud, and I love them for that. They raised me to believe that I should never try to change myself to fit into the hearing world – that I should change the world to fit me instead. And I try to live by that, I really do, but sometimes…they don’t get that it doesn’t have to mean the same thing for me as it does for them. I don’t want to close myself off to people just because we have to work a little harder to communicate.”

 

Kurt nods, unsure of what to say. He remembers last spring, when his dad started spending so much time with Finn, and Kurt started wearing trucker caps. He swallows.

 

“They’re probably just afraid,” he says. “They don’t want to lose you.”

 

Blaine searches his eyes, somehow both soft and shrewd. Kurt fights the urge to look away.

 

“You’re a good person, you know that, Kurt Hummel?”

 

His name, shaped like that by Blaine’s rough tongue and the affection shining through his eyes – it’s enough to melt Kurt right into the duvet. Blaine takes Kurt’s hand in his and gives it a squeeze. Kurt is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open, but he’s so busy trying to stop his heart from galloping out of his chest that he can’t spare the brain power to close it.

 

But then, like so many moments between them, it passes.

 

“Do you want to listen to some music?” asks Blaine, letting go of Kurt’s hand to climb off of his bed.

 

Kurt blinks. “Huh?” he says.

 

“Music?” repeats Blaine, amused.

 

“But you…” Kurt trails off, aware that this sentence can lead nowhere good.

 

Blaine laughs, thank god.

 

“I can still feel it,” he says. “Music is just vibration.”

 

Kurt’s never really thought of it like that before.

 

 _Yes_ , he signs. _Okay_.

 

Blaine busies himself with his iPod deck for a moment, then turns to Kurt, holding up something in a little plastic bag.

 

“You should probably wear these,” he says. He tosses the bag to Kurt, who catches it easily. “I like my Katy Perry pretty loud.”

 

Kurt looks at the bag. Ear plugs.

 

He laughs.

 

&&&&&

 

Slowly, inevitably, the summer starts to wind down. The studio has a summer showcase every year at the end of August, in which all of its students are expected to perform, and Kurt has started staying late to put in extra practice at the barre. If he’s going to be performing with a bunch of thirteen year olds, he at least wants to make sure he’s better than them.

 

Blaine stops by and gives him corrections, sometimes, when he’s on his break between classes. His approach is significantly more hands-on than Keisha’s, which Kurt thoroughly appreciates. He can feel the imprint of Blaine’s hands on his body for hours afterward.

 

Sebastian comes with Blaine, once. He doesn’t say a word, just slouches against the doorway and smirks obnoxiously.

 

 _How long you know Sebastian, again?_ Kurt asks, when he and Blaine meet for coffee the next day. He’s been wanting to talk about him ever since that awkward night at the Andersons’, but it’s never seemed like the right time to bring it up. Now is as right as it’s going to get.

 

 _We --- seven years old, so --- ten years_.

 

_Your parents, him, know well?_

_They love him. They still think --- little ---._

_What?_

_L-a-m-b. Little l-o-s-t lamb._

 

Kurt arches his eyebrows. Sebastian is far more wolf than lamb.

 

 _He’ll be at their house for dinner every night while I’m in New York, I’m sure_ , adds Blaine. He rolls his eyes, amused.

 

Kurt doesn’t know what to make of it.

 

With all of his extra rehearsing, the time Kurt has for his friends-who-aren’t-Blaine has become vanishingly small. He sees Rachel all the time, when she comes over to spend time with Finn, but the others have been little more than names on his phone screen for weeks. He’s getting woefully behind on the good gossip.

 

It doesn’t take long to get the ball rolling on a sleepover with his favorite glee ladies – hosted by Rachel, of course, because Kurt doesn’t have a karaoke machine. They follow their time-honored sleepover tradition: sing their hearts out while it’s still too early for the neighbors to call the cops, then change into their pajamas and settle in for a long night of facials and finger foods and gossiping about boys. Tonight, they have _Center Stage_ on in the background, in honor of Kurt’s upcoming performance.

 

Kurt is, understandably, distracted.

 

“I wonder if it’s true, what they say about gay dancers,” he murmurs. Rachel and Mercedes exchange a look – Kurt can see it out of the corner of his eye.

 

“What, that there are a lot of them?” ventures Rachel.

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

Rachel takes a breath, probably about to unleash a whole lot of factually-dubious information that Kurt neither wants nor needs to hear, but Mercedes cuts her off.

 

“Kurt’s just worried that his boy is going to meet some cute dancer and forget all about him.”

 

She’s teasing him, but it hits closer to home than he would like.

 

“He’s not ‘my boy,’” he says. “And he isn’t going to be.” If his voice is a tad wistful, well, Rachel and Mercedes of all people won’t judge him.

 

“What? Why not?” asks Rachel, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

 

“Did you miss the part where he’s moving to New York in two weeks?”

 

Saying it is hard – harder than Kurt would have thought. He has to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

 

“You mean, where you’ll be next year?”

 

“Rachel – ”

 

“Did you even ask if he would be interested in igniting a long-distance romance, or did you just assume?”

 

“I don’t even know if he’s interested in a romance at all, Rachel.”

 

She looks at him, mouth gaping open, as if he’s being an idiot, and it’s obvious to everyone but him.

 

“You need to tell him how you feel, Kurt. You said it yourself, there isn’t very much time left. What if he’s been pining away all this time, and he hasn’t said a word because he thinks you’re not interested? You can’t let him leave without finding out for sure.”

 

“Hold up,” says Mercedes. She’s got one hand up, as if warding Rachel off. “Maybe Kurt’s got the right idea, Rachel. Maybe it’s better to just let go, when it’s time. Be grateful for what you had, then make a clean break, before anyone gets hurt.”

 

Kurt looks at her. He’s pretty sure that wasn’t about him. She’s staring, unseeing, at the screen in front of them.

 

“Anything you’d like to share, Mercedes?”

 

“Sam’s moving to Kentucky,” she says. Her tone does not invite sympathy, or discussion. Kurt and Rachel exchange a look. They turn back to the movie.

 

It’s enough to get the gears turning in Kurt’s head.

 

&&&&&

 

The day of the showcase arrives. It also happens to be Blaine’s last day in Ohio. Kurt can’t figure out if it’s the anticipation or the dread that’s making his gut writhe so unpleasantly.

 

The showcase is being held at the April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, of all places. It’s the only auditorium within the Lima city limits that has enough seats to accommodate the doting friends and family of the studio’s surprisingly numerous students. It’s nice to be back here after months away, like coming home, but Kurt can’t help but feel a little territorial. He nearly growls when he sees a pair of pubescent boys whipping out a thick, black sharpie to add their initials to the graffiti wall. Even Kurt hasn’t dared to leave his mark – that honor is reserved for exiting seniors. The damage is done before he so much as starts to march over there to put them in their place.

 

Kurt has never seen the backstage area more crowded. There are itsy bitsy ballerinas jumping up and down in excitement and terrorizing the poor parent volunteers in charge of hair and make-up, teenage girls with faces pulled into moues of concentration as they warm up en pointe, little boys clumped together and whispering as they watch the older dancers with no small measure of awe, all of them cramped together in a space that is really only used to holding a twelve-person glee club.

 

Blaine is at Kurt’s elbow, putting the finishing touches on his stage make-up (his eyes lined in black are so impossibly pretty that Kurt fears he may actually drown, looking into them). Sebastian is on Blaine’s other side, lounging against the vanity and signing just below Kurt’s eye line. He hasn’t let Blaine out of his sight all afternoon.

 

“Okay, everyone, places!” calls someone – an instructor, Kurt thinks, from the way the little ones flock to her.

 

 _Places_ , he signs to Blaine, who’s moved on to triple-checking the security of his hearing aid ear molds.

 

Blaine smiles at him.

 

 _Thanks_ , he signs.

 

The look Sebastian shoots Kurt is less than pleased. He throws an arm around Blaine’s shoulder and starts to lead him away.

 

“Break a leg,” says Kurt, when he catches Blaine’s eye. He shoots Kurt a grin and signs something back that Kurt takes to mean the same.

 

Kurt’s heart sinks, as he watches him walk away.

 

He’s going to be a total mess tomorrow.

 

Kurt’s class is pretty early in the program, so he doesn’t have much of a chance to let his nerves build. His dad is in the audience, and Carole, Finn, and Rachel, all in a neat row front and center. Mercedes is somewhere, too, with Tina, but he hasn’t seen them yet. Mercedes texted him a joint selfie with the caption “Break a leg!” about 15 minutes before the curtain rose.

 

Kurt isn’t really aware of what he’s doing once the music starts, just lets months of well-earned muscle memory take over. It feels strange to be on a stage – this stage in particular – in front of an audience, performing with his body instead of his voice. Not necessarily in a bad way, though. He feels…strong, actually. Powerful, graceful, comfortable in his body in a way that he absolutely did not at the beginning of the summer. He can feel eyes drawing to him, and not just because he is currently the tallest person on the stage. The choreography may be simplistic, but his performance is anything but.

 

His friends and family give him a standing ovation, at the end. He can see that even through the bright lights that are shining stubbornly into his eyes. He’s pretty sure that will never stop feeling awesome.

 

Once he’s milked his bows for all they’re worth, he shuffles back to his seat with the rest of his class and settles in to wait through the intermediate performances for the good stuff. It’s a little painful at times – between their wobbly pointe work and the underdeveloped upper body strength of their pre-pubescent partners, it’s a miracle that only one of those poor girls falls on her ass – but totally worth it, in the end, when Blaine is up on that stage and Kurt can’t take his eyes away.

 

Even just doing ensemble work, Blaine is mesmerizing to watch. Beyond the form-fitting white tights and the magnetism of his stage presence, there’s just…it’s not so much that the music moves through him as he dances, but that – it’s like his body _is_ the music. Kurt barely even notices Sebastian, much less the ten anonymous dancers twirling in eddies around them. He doesn’t see how anyone could.

 

All too soon, their number is over, and Kurt claps so hard he thinks he may have actually given himself blisters.

 

The curtain closes, and a spotlight comes up. The studio director, a woman Kurt has only ever seen behind the closed door of her office, steps out in front. She has a show smile fixed firmly to her face. As she begins talking, Kurt notices a second, dimmer spotlight in the corner of the stage, trained on a woman Kurt has never seen before – an ASL interpreter, of course. Kurt finds himself watching her, instead.

 

“Thank you again for taking the time out of your busy schedules to celebrate all of our budding young dancers and the spectacular work they have accomplished this summer.” She starts a round of applause, then waits for it to die out, smile never once budging. “As you may be aware, this is a time of endings and new beginnings for many of our dancers. Our final performance of the evening honors two of those particularly bright beginnings. Blaine Anderson, who is leaving us early for the Joffrey Ballet School of New York, and Mikayla Miller, who will be sharing her gifts at UCLA in just a few short days, have come together to give us a very special farewell treat. Performing the infamous Balcony Pas de Deux from _Romeo and Juliet_ , our shining stars, Blaine and Mikayla. We are so very proud.”

 

She bows her head, another cue for applause. Kurt complies, enthusiastically. Blaine didn’t tell him about this.

 

The stage lights dim, the curtain opens, and there’s a breath of a moment before the lights come up when Kurt can actually hear his heart pounding.

 

The balcony itself is makeshift, nothing more than a black platform, and their costumes are simple. Kurt suspects the reason for this is more budgetary than artistic, but he certainly approves of the effect. Stripped of distractions, the eye can’t help but focus on the dancers.

 

The music starts, slow and lush. Blaine looks up at Mikayla. He’s lit from within, as if he has sunbeams trapped beneath his skin. He reaches to her, and she reaches back, and Kurt is lost.

 

Blaine is perfect for this part – earnest, bold, romantic, leaping across the stage with utter abandon and lifting his partner with the utmost care. His hands on her body are reverent, his eyes on hers a temptation to recklessness. The way they move together is effortless, a melody and a harmony, a duet that transcends the music.

 

At the end, when Blaine catches her hand and pulls her ever so slowly to him, the way he looks at her just before they kiss, it’s – Kurt feels it down to his toes, the fearless way that Blaine exposes his heart. It takes his breath away.

 

He’s in something of a daze by the time it’s all over and Blaine is taking his final bows. The audience has risen to its feet, taking Kurt right along. The applause is so thunderous that Kurt is sure that Blaine must feel it. Kurt catches sight of Blaine’s parents in the row just behind his own contingent of friends and family, signing their applause with the proudest of smiles. Kurt quickly follows suit, kicking himself for forgetting. Blaine positively beams when he catches sight of him.

 

The front lobby is chaos after the show. Kurt gets hugs and flowers from his family, and then another round from Rachel and Mercedes and Tina, and even though he feels a little silly about his own performance, following the one he just witnessed, he can’t help but feel proud that he’s impressed them all so thoroughly.

 

“I should have taken class with you this summer,” laments Rachel, crazy eyes on full display. “This is just the edge you need to get into Juillard.”

 

“Not to mention win us Nationals,” puts in Finn. He looks a little in awe, which makes sense considering that pretty much any dance move more complicated than a two-step is still daunting for him. “You don’t think Mr. Schue is going to make us dance this year, do you?” he asks furtively. “I mean, like, really dance.”

 

Kurt is saved from answering that by a tap on his shoulder. He turns to find Blaine grinning broadly at him. His make-up is smeared from the sweat and his hair has mostly broken from its hold, but he still looks just as handsome. Kurt dives in for a hug, because he can’t help himself. Blaine’s arms circle around him immediately and squeeze him extra tight. Blaine gives pretty amazing hugs, Kurt reflects, even if he is slightly damp. It’s actually a little embarrassing how completely not gross Kurt finds that.

 

 _You were wonderful_ , he signs, once they’ve released each other.

 

 _So were you_.

 

Kurt flushes with pleasure at the praise in spite of his very best efforts to keep his cool. Kurt’s dad clears his throat behind them. Kurt turns to find six curious faces looking on.

 

“You were, uh…” starts Kurt’s dad, clearly searching his memory for the right sign to finish. _Good_ , he fumbles. “Real good.”

 

“Thank you,” says Blaine, touched. “Kurt was amazing. I bet you’re really proud.”

 

“That I am,” he says, with a fond smile for Kurt. He claps a hand to Kurt’s shoulder.

 

“We all are,” puts in Carole, sliding an arm around Kurt’s waist to squeeze him affectionately. “And you were just superb. It’s no wonder the Joffrey snapped you up.”

 

“Thank you,” says Blaine, again, somehow managing to uncover an even greater depth of gratitude. “That really does mean a lot to me.”

 

“Well, we’ll miss having you around.”

 

“I’ll definitely miss your cooking.”

 

He winks, and Carole laughs.

 

Blaine seems to realize, then, that they have an audience. He looks over Kurt’s shoulder and smiles politely. Kurt turns around to find Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina looking on with unbridled curiosity. Finn is clearly trying not to stare.

 

“Oh, right. Guys, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is Tina, Mercedes, and Rachel.” Kurt pauses to finger-spell each of their names as the three of them wave awkwardly. “You know Finn.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” says Blaine, charming smile at his lips.

 

 _Nice to meet you_ , signs Rachel, crisply, with a beam. Kurt raises his eyebrows at her. “You’re not the only one who can learn sign language,” she says, nose jutting into the air. “Multilingualism is a very important skill for an actress.”

 

Blaine is looking at her blankly, and Kurt can see why. She can’t be the easiest person to speech-read.

 

Mercedes and Tina chorus their own greetings, and Finn reaches out a hand to shake, but Blaine turns back to Kurt before they can make any more small talk.

 

“I should probably get back to my parents – we have dinner reservations at six.” Kurt feels his heart sink. It only helps a little that Blaine looks regretful. “But I was hoping that maybe we could get together later? Hang out for a few hours?”

 

Kurt nods. _Yes_ , he signs, quickly, unable to speak past the lump of relief in his throat. _My house or yours?_

 

 _Yours --- parents are okay ---_.

 

“Dad, can Blaine come over later?” Kurt asks immediately, not bothering to take the time to turn and look at him.

 

“Yeah, kid,” his dad says, amused. “Of course. He’s always welcome, you know that.”

 

They agree on a general timeframe, and then, with a parting smile for the group, Blaine slips through the crowd to find his family. Kurt barely manages to hold back a dreamy sigh.

 

All six of them have significant looks on their faces when he turns back to face them.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt’s nerves are jangling by the time Blaine rings his door bell at eight o’clock sharp. Rachel has been texting him every ten minutes since they parted ways, things like _Oh, my god, you’re right – he is super cute!_ and _You have to tell him!!!_ Kurt has been steadfastly not replying, not that it’s deterred her at all. His dad stopped by his room earlier and stood awkwardly in the doorway for several minutes, hands shoved in his pockets, until finally he plucked up his courage and thrust a stack of pamphlets in Kurt’s direction.

 

“Now, we’ll have to do this thing for real sometime soon, but I wanted to make sure you at least had the information you need, in case…” He trailed off, hand reaching up to fiddle nervously with his cap. Kurt felt himself turn the brightest of bright reds. “Well, in case things get…serious.”

 

“Oh, god, Dad, please stop talking.”

 

Even if anything were to happen between him and Blaine tonight, it certainly wouldn’t be _that_.

 

His dad nodded quickly and made his escape, possibly even more uncomfortable contemplating the thought than Kurt was.

 

At least he’s making the effort. And it certainly says something, that his dad thought that it was even a remote possibility.

 

Kurt has been fighting with himself all evening. Part of him will think, _Hey, they’re right, what have I got to lose?_ only to be shot down when the answer is, inevitably, _Everything_.

 

He hasn’t made up his mind in the least by the time he goes to answer the door.

 

Blaine has obviously showered, changed, and groomed. He’s wearing a simple outfit, for him, a red polo paired with tight, dark-wash jeans and his favorite navy boat shoes. His hair has been washed and re-gelled, neat and shiny and directing attention to his handsome face. He’s smiling his sunny smile, the one that Kurt can’t help but return.

 

 _Come in_ , he signs.

 

He lets Blaine slip out of his shoes and greet Kurt’s parents, then leads the way upstairs. They sit on Kurt’s bed, cross-legged and facing each other.

 

 _How was dinner?_ he asks.

 

_Good. I was starving._

_I bet._

_We went to L-u-i-g-i-s. It was my favorite --- kid. I think my parents --- n-o-s-t-a-l-g-i-a._

 

“Can’t blame them.”

 

_No. I guess not. I’ve been so busy --- tomorrow, I don’t think it’s really hit me that I’m leaving._

 

Kurt swallows.

 

_You…be back for holidays, yes?_

_Of course. No way you --- me._

_What?_

“No way you’re getting rid of me.”

 

Blaine is smiling in what is clearly intended to be a reassuring manner, but there’s a tinge of desperation that he can’t quite clear from his eyes. It gives Kurt hope.

 

_What you want do for your last night?_

_I don’t care. I just want to spend time with you._

 

Kurt’s heart thuds.

 

_How long…you stay?_

_I should leave by 11. Sebastian is coming over to spend the night._

 

It drops.

 

“Oh.”

 

Blaine blinks, a slow sweep of his eyelashes, clearly aware that he said something to make Kurt upset, but not clear as to what it was. Or at least not willing to address it. Kurt gathers himself and smiles. It starts out forced, but there’s nothing he can really do about that.

 

_You want watch a movie?_

 

Blaine smiles, too. His is far more real.

_Sure! What did you have in mind?_

They spend some time picking through Kurt’s DVD collection. _Bring It On_ is dismissed, as is _West Side Story_ and _The Dark Knight_. (“I didn’t know you had a thing for superheroes,” says Blaine, delighted. “I don’t,” says Kurt. “I have a thing for Christian Bale.” Blaine nods knowingly). Blaine briefly considers _The Philadelphia Story_ and _Singin’ in the Rain_ , before finally settling on _The Notebook_.

 

 _Are you sure?_ asks Kurt. _This movie always makes me cry_.

 

 _Me too_ , says Blaine, but he doesn’t change his mind.

 

It’s a good pick, at least for the first hour and a half or so. They’ve both seen it so many times that they don’t really need to pay attention to the screen in order to follow the action. They sprawl on their stomachs, Kurt’s laptop propped up on his pillows, leaving their hands free to talk.

 

 _This movie --- my grandparents_ , says Blaine.

 

 _Yeah?_ says Kurt, careful not to seem too eager. It isn’t often that Blaine volunteers information about his family.

 

 _My dad’s mother and my mother’s father, they were ---_.

 

_What?_

 

Blaine repeats it, more slowly, but Kurt still isn’t getting it.

 

“They were supposed to be married,” says Blaine.

 

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up.

 

“What?”

 

“Well, as I’m sure you can imagine, the Deaf Filipino community is pretty small in Ohio. Their parents essentially promised them to each other at birth.”

 

Kurt cocks his head, intrigued.

 

_So, what happened?_

_They dated in high school, went to p-r-o-m together and everything. They planned to get ---, m-a-r-r-i-e-d, after college. But then, when they got to G-a-l-l-a-u-d-e-t, they fell in love with other people. There was a lot of d-r-a-m-a with their families._

_I can imagine._

_The four of them --- friends, though. They all --- back in Ohio. They --- their kids together._

_So, your parents were…kid…friends?_

Blaine nods. _And high school sweethearts_.

 

 _That’s…a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e_.

 

 _I know. I think...I think they kind of expected me and Sebastian to end up the same way_.

 

Kurt’s breath catches in his throat. He makes a small, squeaky noise that he’s perfectly happy Blaine didn’t hear. Blaine is looking straight ahead at Kurt’s laptop screen, but it’s clear that he’s attuned to Kurt’s reaction beside him.

 

 _Did you ever…?_ asks Kurt, carefully.

 

_I had a c-r-u-s-h, on him when we first met. But he never… He was my first ---, k-i-s-s, when we were fourteen, but nothing ever happened, after that. We were much better as friends. We are better as friends._

 

It’s clear that Blaine is trying to tell him something more than what he’s saying, but Kurt hasn’t a clue as to what it is. Is it a hint that Kurt, too, shouldn’t get his hopes up for more than friendship? Or that he totally should, because Sebastian isn’t a threat?

 

Kurt bites his lip, ignores the racing of his heart, and watches the movie.

 

They talk about lighter things, for a while, like 1940s fashion and Ryan Gosling’s puppy dog eyes. Then, suddenly, abruptly – or maybe not so abruptly, considering what’s happening on the screen in front of them, Blaine asks, _Do you ever think about it? What you want your first time to be like?_

 

Kurt goes immediately red. He can’t bear to look at Blaine, and he certainly can’t bear to look at the teenagers awkwardly undressing themselves on his screen. He has a hysterical instinct to turn to his desk drawer, where he shoved those awful pamphlets the second his dad left the room. He looks down at his hands, instead.

 

 _No_ , he says. _Not…d-e-t-a-i-l_.

 

Blaine nudges his shoulder. Kurt looks up to find him searching Kurt’s face, curious and concerned.

 

_Is something wrong?_

_No, no. It’s fine. I just…I don’t know a lot…s-e-x_.

 

It’s easier, somehow, to sign it than to say it. The words don’t feel as…illicit this way.

 

 _I can tell you what I know, if you want. I don’t have any --- experience, but Sebastian loves to --- me --- about his c-o-n-q-u-e-s-t-s_.

 

Blaine rolls his eyes. His expression is warm, nonjudgmental, but even the thought of carrying this conversation forward leaves Kurt feeling vaguely sick to his stomach. The spark of arousal he’s felt since the moment Blaine looked into his eyes and asked him about sex only makes him feel worse.

 

 _No. That’s – I’ll do my own r-e-s-e-a-r-c-h_ , he says with a tight smile.

 

 _Okay_ , says Blaine, easily, but Kurt can tell he’s a little worried that he’s upset him.

 

Kurt breathes in, breathes out, wills himself to calm.

 

 _I want…with someone I love_ , he says, before his nerve fizzles out.

 

 _Me too_ , says Blaine, with a soft smile.

 

They watch in silence for a time, after that. Shoulders touching, thighs brushing, hands close enough to link, if they just stretched out their pinkies. It’s all Kurt can think about, the nearness of Blaine’s body and the heat of his skin.

 

Eventually, Blaine re-starts his steady stream of commentary, and Kurt follows suit. He’s getting pretty good at bantering in ASL.

 

By the end, they’re both teary, snotty messes, just as Kurt predicted. They use up about half of Kurt’s tissue box and soak through the adorable, embroidered hanky that Blaine pulls out of his pocket the second that Kurt’s waterworks start.

 

Blaine leans his cheek against Kurt’s shoulder as the credits start to play. He sniffles, the sound of it loud next to Kurt’s ear.

 

 _I needed a good cry_ , he says.

 

Kurt swallows.

 

 _Me too_.

 

He savors the moment, the weight of Blaine’s head and the intimacy of his lingering tears seeping into Kurt’s shirt, and then he reaches out, reluctantly, to close his laptop. Blaine is dislodged in the process, and they rearrange themselves until they’re sitting across from each other once more.

 

It’s 10:30. Their time is winding down.

 

“Are you all packed?” he asks, never one to hide from the things that scare him.

 

_Of course. My f-l-i-g-h-t is at noon, so I have time in the morning to triple check._

_That’s good._

_I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. It doesn’t seem ---, r-e-a-l. I feel like I --- more ready._

 

Kurt catches his hand and squeezes, before letting him go to tell him, _You’ll be amazing_.

 

_Thank you._

 

“I mean it. You’re extraordinary, Blaine. You’re meant to be on a stage.”

 

“Kurt…”

 

Blaine trails off, smiling with the overflow of his full heart. He’s so achingly beautiful.

 

Just then, Kurt is made aware of music drifting in through his open window. It must be from the living room downstairs – Kurt can hear Carole giggling just above the croon of “Blue Suede Shoes,” probably at his dad’s sorry attempts at dancing.

 

 _E-l-v-i-s_ , he signs, to explain his distraction.

 

_Ah. Your parents?_

Kurt nods his affirmation, head bobbing absently in time to the music.

 

 _Do you want to dance?_ Blaine asks. He wiggles his eyebrows, and Kurt can’t control his own silly grin.

 

 _Okay, yes_.

 

They get up, and Blaine takes Kurt’s hands. He finds the beat, easily, and leads Kurt in a twist that would make Chubby Checker proud.

 

“How do you do that?” asks Kurt, through his laughter.

 

“Do what?”

 

“You follow the music better than I do, and you’re not even wearing your hearing aids.”

 

“I don’t know,” says Blaine, before pulling Kurt in for a spin. “I just feel it, in my body. It helps if it’s really loud or there’s a lot of bass – or if I’m privileged enough to dance with a partner whose musicality is as impeccable as yours.”

 

Kurt grins.

 

“Well, that I won’t argue with.”

 

Blaine has a few fancy moves that he pulls out of his back pocket, spins and turns that have Kurt reeling dizzily and ready to burst with the force of his laughter by the end of the song.

 

The music shifts, then, before Kurt can catch his breath, to a slow, swaying rhythm. Blaine is still holding his hand.

 

_Wise men say only fools rush in…_

 

Kurt looks into Blaine’s eyes, smile starting to drain into something more serious. His heart is pounding again.

 

“Do you feel that?” he murmurs.

 

Blaine pauses, defocusing as a look of concentration passes over his face. He finds Kurt’s eyes again and nods, slowly.

 

“Dance with me?” asks Kurt, more boldly.

 

Blaine’s gaze goes soft and sweet. He tugs Kurt gently into hold, one hand on Blaine’s shoulder, the other laced tightly with Blaine’s. Kurt can feel the warmth and the strength of Blaine’s arm as it curls tentatively around his back. He has to remind himself to breathe.

 

They sway back and forth, revolving in a slow circle. The distance between their bodies shrinks, until Blaine’s chin is hooked over Kurt’s shoulder and their linked hands are tucked into the scant space between their chests. Kurt can feel Blaine’s heart, synched with his own. He closes his eyes.

 

_Like a river flows surely to the sea,_

_Darling, so it goes,_

_Some things are meant to be._

_Take my hand, take my whole life, too,_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you…_

 

“Kurt?” Blaine murmurs. “Are you singing?”

 

Kurt opens his eyes. He didn’t even realize. He nods, cheek brushing against Blaine’s hair.

 

“I can feel it,” says Blaine. “It’s nice.”

 

And that’s it, that’s enough. There’s really only so much Kurt can hold inside himself before he bursts. He pulls back so that he can look Blaine in the eye.

 

“Blaine,” he says, helpless, hoping it will be enough. It has to be. He isn’t sure what comes next.

 

He always pictured, in a moment like this, that he wouldn’t have to say or do anything at all. The guy of his dreams would confess his feelings, then take him in his arms and kiss him – tenderly, passionately – and Kurt would only have to let it happen.

 

But Blaine is looking back at him, just as uncertain, just as vulnerable. Kurt doesn’t have a script for this. So he does what his heart and his soul and his body are begging for him to do. He takes Blaine’s face in his hands, and he leans in, and, finally, he kisses him.

 

It takes Blaine a terrifying moment to respond, but he does, and then it’s everything that Kurt ever wanted his first kiss to be. And more, because suddenly there are tongues involved, and jolts of electricity zipping from nerve to nerve all over his body, and Kurt kind of, sort of understands why his dad was worried, because all he really wants right now is to be as close to Blaine as humanly possible.

 

And then Blaine breaks the kiss, and they’re both blinking at each other dazedly. Kurt is torn between euphoria and panic – he really can’t read Blaine’s expression right now at all.

 

“Kurt, I…Kurt.”

 

And that really doesn’t help to enlighten him.

 

“I like you, Blaine,” Kurt says, in a rush. He tries to breathe, tries to slow down – he wants Blaine to understand him. “I always have. I didn’t want you to leave without knowing how I felt.”

 

His voice is high-pitched and thready, and his expression is probably more terrified than anything else, but it doesn’t matter. He just wants Blaine to say something – anything at all – that will clue Kurt in to what he’s thinking.

 

Blaine looks as if his heart is breaking.

 

“Kurt, I – I can’t.”

 

Even though he knew this was a strong possibility, it’s still as shocking to Kurt as a slap in the face. He pulls away from Blaine, puts distance between them. He wraps his arms tightly around himself, a self-protective gesture that comes far too late.

 

“If that’s just a nice way of saying you don’t feel the same – ”

 

 _No, it’s not that!_ Blaine signs, alarmed. _It’s – Kurt, I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m not going to start something right now that doesn’t --- lasting, no matter --- I want to. I can’t._

 

“It’s only a year, Blaine. Less than that. I’ll be on the first plane out of Lima after graduation, if I can. You don’t think we could handle nine months of long distance?”

 

_I don’t even know if I could --- a r-e-l-a-t-i-o-n-s-h-i-p --- same city! I’ve never – I’m not very good at r-o-m-a-n-c-e, Kurt. I don’t want to screw this up._

 

Blaine’s eyes are pleading with him, and it’s not fair. Because, honestly, Kurt knows that he’s right – he just doesn’t want him to be.

 

_Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry I – I’m sorry._

_No, Kurt. Don’t be. Please. It was nice – more than nice. It was the perfect --- say goodbye._

 

Kurt feels his eyes sting with tears. He averts his eyes.

 

“I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you.”

 

“Then don’t.”

 

Kurt nods. He breathes in, gathers himself.

 

“Will you call me tomorrow, after you get settled?”

 

He hates that his voice is wavering, hates the tears he still hasn’t managed to blink back.

 

_Of course. You’re one of my best friends, Kurt._

 

Blaine is hovering, as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. He looks sad, and guilty, and worried, and Kurt still wants to kiss him.

 

Kurt smiles, gives it his very best.

 

 _You, too_. He looks at the clock. 11:03. “You should go. You don’t want to keep Sebastian waiting.”

 

Blaine sighs.

 

 _I’ll talk to you tomorrow_.

 

It’s a statement, but there’s a question in his eyes, and Kurt hates it, hates that he put it there.

 

 _We’re fine, Blaine. I promise._ “It’ll be just like ‘When Harry Met Sally.’”

 

He manages a real smile, then, and Blaine returns it. He cocks his head.

 

“Don’t they get together, in the end?”

 

Kurt ignores the persistent throb of the lump in his throat and lets his smile turn coy.

 

“I call dibs on Meg Ryan, of course.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Kurt walks Blaine downstairs. Blaine stops in front of the door and takes his hand, one last time. He squeezes it, then releases.

 

 _Goodnight_ , he says. _See you soon_.

 

 _Goodnight_ , Kurt returns.

 

And then, with one final look, Blaine is out the door.

 

Kurt breathes in, and then out, and a tiny trickle of tears makes it past his defenses. When he turns back around, his father and Carole are there, heads peeking around the corner – alerted, probably, by the shutting of the door. The final strains of “Love Me Tender” are drifting in from behind them.

 

_Love me tender, love me dear,_

_Tell me you are mine._

_I’ll be yours through all the years,_

_Till the end of time…_

 

“I’m going to bed,” says Kurt, roughly. He practically runs back up the stairs without waiting for a response.

 

The last thing he wants right now is sympathy.

 

&&&&&

 

_2012_

 

Kurt hasn’t come to terms with it yet. Deep down, he knows that. He tells his dad, Rachel, Blaine, everyone he knows, really, that he’s fine – these things happen, after all, and if Kurt Hummel is good at anything, it’s picking himself up when he gets knocked down. He tells himself that this is just a detour, that he’ll be back on track before he knows it.

 

It’s just really hard to believe that when everyone he knows is off making their dreams come true and he’s stuck in a Lima Bean apron serving drinks to his ex-classmates.

 

It wasn’t so bad this summer, when Rachel was still flitting from Lima to New York and back again and Mercedes managed to pop in every day for an iced mocha. It felt like any old summer job, something to do to make money while he waited for his future to begin. But now, the weather is starting to cool, and he’s still here, and it’s starting to feel like maybe this _is_ his future.

 

Rachel calls him at least once a day, chattering on and on about how wonderful the city is, and how wonderful the school is, and how everyone worships her, and Kurt suspects that there is a lot of hyperbole in there, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous. Mercedes can barely return a text, these days, and Finn is pretty much unreachable. Even Tina, who still lives less than five minutes away, is so busy with senior year and rebuilding the glee club that she barely even has time for their long-standing tradition of Friday after-school gossip.

 

Blaine, at least, is there for him, just the way he always has been.

 

 _Do you think I’m pathetic?_ Kurt asks one night on Skype. Blaine is sitting cross-legged on his dorm room bed. His roommate is probably somewhere in the background, but it doesn’t matter – it’s not like he would understand their conversation even if he could see it. One of the many perks of being fluent enough in ASL that he doesn’t need to resort to voicing (another being the very satisfying look on Sebastian’s face when he smirks his way through the world’s most complicated coffee order and Kurt doesn’t miss a beat).

 

 _Of course not_.

 

_Be honest._

_I am. I think you’re doing the best you can with a really terrible situation._

 

While Blaine is utterly sincere – is never less than utterly sincere – Kurt can sense that there’s something more he wants to say. This is clearly no more than his way of gentling what’s sure to be a kick in the butt.

_But?_ he signs, impatient to get to it.

 

_But I also think you need to get out of that town before it sucks out your soul._

 

Kurt is startled into a laugh. A bitter one, but a laugh nonetheless.

_Yeah? And just where do you suggest I go?_

Blaine shoots him a look.

_You don’t need N-Y-A-D-A to come to New York, Kurt. I mean, even if you just end up getting another job as a barista or something, at least you’ll be here, in the best city ever, with the best friends ever. And you can still apply for winter semester ---, just like you planned._

 

He’s looking at Kurt with these wide, hopeful eyes, and Kurt can’t help it – he starts to feel kind of hopeful, too. It isn’t that this is the first time Blaine has said something like this to him. It’s just the first time that it’s really felt possible.

_Maybe you’re right_ , he says.

 

Blaine lights entirely up.

 

_You mean it?_

_I’m miserable here. It’s time I admit that. I actually got excited when Mr. S-c-h-u-e asked me to sit in on glee auditions last week._

_Kurt, this is so great, this – you’re going to love it here, I swear. You can stay with me while you look for a place, if you want – I’ll have to sneak you in, but people do it all the time._

_Don’t get ahead of yourself. I still have to talk to my dad. I have barely enough money saved up to cover a plane ticket, much less New York rent._

_He’ll be totally for it, don’t worry._

Blaine seems…really sure. Like, suspiciously sure.

 

_Have you been talking to my dad, Blaine Anderson?_

 

Blaine smiles ruefully.

_He was worried about you._

 

 _And so was I,_ goes unsaid.

Kurt is honestly more touched than annoyed that the two of them were conspiring behind his back.

 

He takes that spark of hope while it’s still glowing hot and brings it to his dad, who he trusts to fan it into a flame. Blaine was right, of course – his dad is relieved, and proud, and promises Kurt that he’ll have a home to come back to, no matter what. They hug it out, hard, and maybe cry a little.

 

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of packing and job searching and apartment hunting, and Kurt hasn’t felt this honestly excited about something in a long time. He shares it all with Blaine and doesn’t say a word to Rachel, who he’s starting to suspect may actually be kind of miserable, too. He figures she deserves a happy surprise.

 

His dad takes him to the airport, alone, for a bittersweet send-off. The melancholy of leaving his family stays with him from take-off to touch-down, like a shroud that he just can’t shrug off. And then, at long last, he’s stepping off the plane onto New York soil, and it hits him.

 

He’s here. Finally. He’s made it – to the city of his dreams, and the boy he’s in love with, and a future full of endless possibilities. It doesn’t matter that he has barely a cent in his pocket, because he’s where he’s meant to be.

 

&&&&&

 

It doesn’t take long for Kurt to make things happen for himself, now that he’s here. Rachel needs no convincing whatsoever to bail on dorm life and set up an apartment with him. He tries to talk Blaine into joining them, but Blaine is still a minor and technically still in high school, and there’s no way his parents are going to let him leave his nice, secure Manhattan dorm room for a run-down loft in Bushwick.

 

That settled, Kurt shifts his focus to finding something productive and, hopefully, lucrative to do with his time. He succeeds with the former right away, landing an internship at Vogue.com working under one of his fashion idols. It pays a meager pittance, enough to cover food expenses and little else, but Kurt’s dad insists on paying Kurt’s share of the rent and other necessities until Kurt gets his feet under him. He assures Kurt that the money isn’t coming out his college fund, as he’s positive that Kurt is going to need that in the very near future, but this does nothing to make Kurt feel better about the situation.

 

“This is my adventure, Dad. I should be the one paying for it.”

 

“That’s very noble of you, Kurt, but we’ve got the money. We’re good there. So why don’t you just shut up and take it before I blow it all on a trip to Waikiki?”

 

Kurt laughs, as he knows he’s supposed to, and agrees without further argument.

 

Blaine seems to thoroughly enjoy being Kurt’s New York tour guide, a necessity during those first weeks when Kurt can barely navigate the subway without sticking his nose into a map every five seconds. He introduces Kurt to his favorite restaurants (of which there are many), his favorite vintage shops, the best picnic spots in Central Park – everything, he says, that he’s been waiting to show Kurt for over a year. Kurt enjoys it, too, knowing that Blaine was thinking of him when he wasn’t there, thrilling in the easy way they thread their arms together as they weave their way through a crowd.

 

It’s heady, being in Blaine’s presence again. It isn’t that he’d forgotten what it was like, exactly, but it’s been nine long months since Blaine’s Christmas trip to Ohio, and the memories have long since dulled. It’s hard not to be overwhelmed when Blaine is smiling his Blaine smile, and his eyes are there, looking right into Kurt’s without a screen to separate them. Like looking straight into the sun, when you’re used to wearing sunglasses.

 

And then, of course, there’s the issue of Caleb.

 

Kurt remembers, very vividly, the day he first heard about Caleb. It was like a one-two punch – _I’m so sorry, I can’t come to Ohio for spring break, and oh, by the way, I’ve been dating this guy named Caleb and I think he wants to get serious_.

 

Kurt didn’t respond particularly well to that. In a bold move inspired by irrational jealousy and a never-ending anecdote about some _amazing_ adventure Blaine and Caleb had at a Manhattan gay bar, he called Rachel and convinced her to accompany him to Scandals in West Lima so that he, too, could drown his sorrows in fruity cocktails and scantily-clad dancing. But then it turned out that Scandals was really more of a cheap beer and fully-clothed sitting kind of a place, and Kurt ended up spending most of his night bonding with a very drunk Sebastian, who, as it turned out, was there for many of the same reasons as Kurt. The bond between them only lasted about three hours, but there’s been considerably less open hostility since then, so Kurt is willing to call it a win.

 

Needless to say, Kurt isn’t exactly predisposed to like Caleb the first time they meet. On that count, he isn’t disappointed.

 

Caleb is a dancer at the Joffrey with Blaine, but that’s about as far as their similarities go. Caleb grew up in New York – on the Upper East Side, no less – and he makes sure that everyone knows it. He’s one of those spoiled rich kid types who thinks he’s the epitome of sophistication because he’s been to most of Europe’s capital cities and drinks red wine with dinner. He’s got a fairly quick wit and a charming smile, and he does seem to treat Blaine with respect, so it’s not really a mystery why Blaine went for him the way he did, but still. He grates on Kurt’s nerves.

 

It doesn’t help that he only seems to know about three words in ASL – _hello_ , _goodbye_ , and _thank you_ – and maybe half of the alphabet. Blaine won’t even sign with Kurt when Caleb is around. “It’s bad manners,” he says. “I don’t want him to feel left out.”

 

Kurt has to bite his tongue pretty hard, at that.

 

It’s funny – Kurt actually feels like he gets less ASL practice here than he did in Lima, in spite of the fact that he sees Blaine almost every day. Part of it is the influence of Caleb and the other hearing people they tend to spend time with, but the other part is just that he isn’t taking classes anymore. He doesn’t miss all that much about school, but he does miss the ASL classes he convinced Miss Pillsbury to let him take at the community college last year instead of fourth-year French.

 

Kurt mentions this to Blaine one day, when it’s just the two of them. Blaine smiles, a touch sadly.

 

 _I know what you mean_ , he says. _You’re my only friend here who can really sign_.

 

 _We need to get you some more Deaf friends_.

 

Kurt says it playfully, but he’s also kind of serious. He, of all people, understands the importance of community.

 

Blaine shoots him a look.

 

 _You sound like my mom_.

 

Kurt drops it.

 

Working at Vogue.com is like something out of a dream for Kurt. Isabelle, his fairy godmother boss, is wonderful and actually values his opinion, and there’s never a shortage of juicy gossip. Not to mention the fact that Kurt has full access to the fashion vault. The long hours and weird demands are totally worth it, for that.

 

Kurt takes Blaine on a tour once. Blaine looks awestruck even just stepping into the building.

 

_I can’t believe you work here!_

_Believe me, neither can I._

_Have you met A-n-n-a W-i-n-t-o-u-r?_

 

Kurt hears a throat clearing just behind his shoulder. He turns to find Isabelle smiling amiably at the two of them.

 

 _No, but you’re about to meet I-s-a-b-e-l-l-e W-r-i-g-h-t_.

 

He makes quick work of introductions, the two of them having already heard quite a bit about each other. Blaine’s eyes are kind of manically wide, and he keeps calling her “Ms. Wright,” and it would be hysterical if Kurt himself hadn’t acted exactly the same way not three weeks before. Isabelle, as it turns out, is conversational in ASL, which only adds to Blaine’s excitement over their meeting. They chat until some poor assistant comes barreling down the hall and practically pulls Isabelle away to deal with the crisis of the moment.

 

Blaine turns to Kurt, blinking, as if clearing the stars in his eyes.

 

 _Wow, you are so lucky. I was worried that we had a_ Devil Wears Prada _situation on our hands, considering the hours you keep._

_Well, apparently fashion and sleep are not particularly compatible._

 

Blaine winces. He’s one of those eight-to-ten-hours-of-sleep-per-night, three-square-meals-per-day kinds of people, probably because it’s really hard to perfect your fouettés, much less lift someone over your head, when all your body really wants to do is scarf a bag of Cheetos and crawl back into bed.

 

Kurt prefers to compensate with coffee.

 

Considering the demands on their time, it can be difficult sometimes for Kurt and Blaine to work each other into their schedules. They end up spending a lot of time as a foursome with Rachel and Caleb, the other ever-present fixtures in their lives.

 

Rachel finds Caleb very charming. Kurt rolls his eyes.

 

One Friday night finds the four of them at Callbacks. It’s Rachel’s favorite piano bar, probably because it’s frequented primarily by NYADA students and Rachel would never, ever turn down the opportunity to show off her prowess on a stage. Kurt isn’t convinced that Blaine is having a particularly good time, as there’s little to enjoy about watching someone sit on a stool and sing a song that you can’t hear, but Blaine knew what he was getting into. He agreed to come as soon as Caleb showed an interest.

 

Rachel, of course, is the first of them to get up on the stage. She knocks it out of the park with a somewhat melancholy version of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” that Kurt is 110% sure is dedicated to Finn, in her heart. None of them have heard from him yet, which, of course, doesn’t make it any easier for her to let him go. He gives her a quick, extra-tight hug when she makes it back to their table, and she smiles at him gratefully.

 

Kurt himself goes for a little Madonna, hamming it up to “Material Girl” in an effort to make Rachel laugh.

 

It feels really amazing to be back on a stage – he hasn’t gone this long without performing since he started glee club his sophomore year. The applause he gets at the end as he takes his bow is a better rush than the round of cosmos Caleb got them with his fake ID.

 

Blaine is grinning at him when he returns, big and broad, and tells him quite sincerely that he was wonderful. Kurt thanks him, but he knows Blaine, and he can sense a little discomfort in the way he’s holding his body. Caleb has an arm around Blaine’s waist, and he’s turned away, chatting to Rachel.

 

 _Do you want to get out of here?_ Kurt asks.

 

Blaine frowns.

 

_We just got here._

_Yeah, but we don’t have to stay if you’re not having any fun._

_I am having fun._

_Really?_

Blaine smiles. That certain twinkle is brewing in his eye.

_Want me to prove it?_

 

Kurt raises his eyebrows, happy to meet the challenge.

 

 _Be my guest_.

 

Blaine extricates himself from Caleb’s side.

 

“Be right back, babe,” he says. He presses a kiss to Caleb’s cheek and tips Kurt a wink. He makes his way to the piano and exchanges a few words with the accompanist.

 

Rachel scrunches her eyebrows.

 

“He’s not going to sing, is he?”

 

Caleb laughs dismissively. “While Blaine has many talents, I’m pretty sure that isn’t one of them.”

 

Kurt enjoys the grain of uncertainty beneath Caleb’s bravado.

 

“Just watch,” he says, with a quelling look aimed mostly at Rachel. He and Caleb don’t have that kind of relationship.

 

“Hello,” says Blaine into the microphone, smiling his softest stage smile. He waits a beat, probably checking the crowd’s reaction. “This song is dedicated to my best friend, who doesn’t seem to think that Deaf people know how to have fun at karaoke.” He grins, and the crowd chuckles, probably due more to Blaine’s inherent charm than anything else. He already has them in the palm of his hand.

 

Blaine nods to the accompanist and hops up on the piano, legs crossed at the ankle. Kurt doesn’t recognize the song right away, not until the melody kicks in and Blaine starts to sign.

 

_You think I’m pretty without any make-up on_

 

Kurt laughs, delighted. There’s no way Blaine is improvising this – it’s far too practiced. He’s looking straight at Kurt and grinning with clear self-satisfaction, and oh, god, but Kurt loves this boy.

 

The crowd doesn’t seem to know what to make of it at first, but then Blaine hits the chorus, and he’s up and moving, and he’s got them.

 

_You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream,_

_The way you turn me on_

 

He works the stage with the panache of a seasoned professional, all effortless grace and flirty-eyed charisma. Every eye in the room is turned to him with rapt attention, as if they’re helpless to it. They’d follow him and his Pied Piper charm right off the edge of a cliff.

 

His eyes always come back to Kurt’s.

 

_Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans,_

_Be your teenage dream tonight_

 

It makes a secret thrill run up Kurt’s spine, every time.

 

Blaine ends the song just as he started, perched on the piano with his ankles neatly crossed. He waits for a beat, then jumps up and takes a bow to raucous applause. Kurt signs his own, standing up and encouraging those around him to do the same.

 

Rachel practically throws herself at Blaine as soon as he’s within distance.

 

 _Blaine! You…so good!_ she signs hurriedly, beaming.

 

 _Amazing_ , adds Kurt. _I stand corrected, clearly. Though I’m a little annoyed I didn’t know about this particular talent before now._

 

Blaine glances at Caleb, who’s watching them awkwardly. He shrugs.

 

“What can I say? I love karaoke.”

 

It’s probably one of those things he used to do with Sebastian. Blaine doesn’t say it, but Kurt’s getting pretty good at listening out for the things that Blaine doesn’t say.

 

They become regulars, after that.

 

The four of them go out dancing sometimes, too. Caleb easily procures Rachel and Kurt their own fake IDs. He’s had one since the age of 14, apparently, and is _shocked_ that they left theirs in Ohio. Kurt doesn’t bother mentioning that he only used his the one time, or that the photo looked more like his father than it did him. If his father had a thick, black beard and a nose piercing, that is.

 

It takes them a few tries to find a place that the four of them can agree on – not too pretentious, not too dive-y, with a younger crowd looking more to let loose and have fun with their friends than to pick someone up for the night – but it’s so worth it. Kurt finds that he doesn’t need to drink at all for his inhibitions to go out the window as soon as he hits the dance floor. There’s something about it, the dark, the crowd, the driving beat that sets everyone’s blood pounding to the same rhythm – it’s so easy to let go. Especially when Blaine is there, across from him, smiling so brightly he drowns out the colored lights that spark in his eyes.

 

It’s a new way for them to share the music.

 

Blaine is usually really good about making sure that Caleb doesn’t monopolize him for so long that their dynamic turns into some weird couple-plus-two-third-wheels thing, but then Finn comes to town unexpectedly, and there’s this whole mess with him and Rachel’s new beau that somehow comes to a head during one of their nights at Callbacks – long story short, Brody is suddenly attached at Rachel’s hip and Kurt has been demoted to fifth wheel. Rachel and Brody have no qualms about spending the entire night grinding and sucking face and basically ignoring all other humans, which seems to give Caleb some similar ideas, and then Kurt is stuck either dancing with strangers or trying not to gag as he watches from the bar. Both of which are less than attractive options.

 

To be fair, Blaine and Caleb put on a pretty tame display compared to Rachel and her Ken doll, but any amount of watching Blaine look up through his eyelashes at someone else is sure to put Kurt in a sour mood.

 

Rachel is not particularly sympathetic when he vents to her.

 

“You need to get over him,” she says decisively. “If you’re not going to actually do anything about your feelings – which, admittedly, is probably for the best, considering that he’s quite happily taken – you need to stop pining and put yourself out there. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m sure you’ll have quite the array to choose from.”

 

Kurt’s response is noncommittal at best, but Rachel is not to be deterred. She starts pointing out all the cute guys who check him out and wheedling him to let her set him up with her single NYADA friends. It makes Kurt feel more than a little pathetic, that she thinks he needs this level of help with his love life, but she’s kind of right. Aside from that kiss with Blaine and a couple of tepid dates with a guy he met at Between the Sheets, his romantic history could be summed up as zilch.

 

Still, it’s hard for him to want anyone else, when Blaine is in the picture. And taking Blaine out of the picture is absolutely not an option, despite what Rachel may think.

 

He feels stuck. He indulges in the things that Blaine gives to him freely – his laughter, his confidences, the tender look of affection in his gorgeous golden eyes – and doesn’t let himself ask for more. He lets Rachel steer him in the direction of willing dance partners, and he pointedly doesn’t think about the way Blaine smiles when Caleb leans down to nibble on his ear.

 

It works, for now, but something is eventually going to have to give.

 

&&&&&

 

“What are we doing for Halloween this year?”

 

Kurt blinks. He really should be used to Rachel bursting through his privacy curtain with that manic look in her eyes. She’s going to regret that someday.

 

“Probably eat fun-sized Snickers and watch _Terms of Endearment_ in our pajamas, if last year is anything to go by.”

 

Neither of them is particularly fond of scary movies. Rachel even hides her eyes sometimes during _Twilight_.

 

Rachel is looking at him as if she literally can’t believe he said that.

 

“Kurt, this is our first Halloween out from under the watchful eyes of our parents, and you want to spend it on the _couch_?”

 

He arches an eyebrow.

 

“And what did you have in mind?”

 

She glances down at her phone, which Kurt can now see is pressed to her chest.

 

“Well, it was Brody’s idea, but I totally concur.” She pauses for a moment, as if to build suspense. “We should have a party!”

 

“A party?”

 

“It’ll be fun! We can have Halloween-themed karaoke and dip-your-own caramel apples – ooh, and a costume contest!”

 

Kurt doesn’t need much convincing. He isn’t one to turn down an excuse to show off his prowess at costume design. And his cover of “Monster Mash” really needs a wider audience than his bedroom mirror.

 

Rachel squeals and runs off, babbling a mile a minute to Brody about her costume ideas (pretty much every role ever played by Barbra Streisand).

 

Kurt pulls out his own phone.

 

 _If you have plans for Halloween, you need to cancel them right now_ , he texts. He sets his phone carefully to the side and goes back to browsing the NYADA blogs for intel on the next round of auditions.

 

Blaine’s answering text comes in less than a minute later.

 

_And why is that?_

 

Kurt pushes his computer aside.

 

_Because your attendance is required at a fabulous loft party in Bushwick._

_Well, if it’s required…_

_I’m also recruiting you for the planning committee. I need someone on my side to help me shoot down Rachel’s decorating ideas._

_Done and done. When should I report for duty?_

_Saturday, 1 PM? I’ll make lunch, you bring dessert._

_It’s a date._

They only have two weeks to prepare, but Kurt threw together a wedding for his dad and Carole in half as much time, so this is a piece of cake. The hardest part is deciding on a costume. Kurt wants to strike just the right balance between impressive and attractive, so that he has a chance at not only winning the contest but also turning someone’s (Blaine’s) head. He must sketch out about fifteen different ideas over the course of a week, and tears up every single one.

 

It’s Blaine that finally solves his dilemma.

 

 _You know what would make a great couple’s costume?_ he asks, half of his attention on the screen in front of them. It’s a Thursday night, and Blaine has to leave soon if he wants to make it back before curfew, but they haven’t been able to bring themselves to stop the movie before it gets to the big finish.

 

_S-n-o-o-k-i and the S-i-t-u-a-t-i-o-n?_

 

 _Well yes, that too. But I was thinking a little closer to home_. He nods significantly at the screen.

 

Ah. That makes more sense.

 

_G-e-n-e K-e-l-l-y is perfect for you, but I don’t know if C-a-l-e-b would go for D-o-n-a-l-d O-C-o-n-n-o-r._

_No, you’re right. He’s not really into classic movies. Or couple’s costumes, for that matter._

 

It hits Kurt, then, in a sudden flash of inspiration.

 

 _Do you know what’s even better than a couple’s costume?_ he signs, fumbling a bit in his excitement.

 

_What?_

_A trio_. He raises his eyebrows and waits for Blaine to catch on to his genius.

 

_Oh, my god, yes. Do you think Rachel will be on board?_

_Only one way to find out_. “Rachel!” he calls, probably too loudly, considering that the loft doesn’t have any walls.

 

She emerges from behind her curtains, face mask slathered thick and starting to crack.

 

“What happened? Is Liza okay?”

 

“What? Yes. I think.” He shakes his head, gets his thoughts back on track. “No, we just had an idea.”

 

“An idea?”

 

“A costume idea. How would you like to be our Debbie Reynolds?”

 

She lights right up.

 

“That’s genius! We’ll have to perform a number, of course. Blaine can choreograph.”

 

They both look to him, but he’s looking back blankly.

 

 _I have no idea what either of you just said_.

 

 _We three…dance, sing…party_ , signs Rachel, clumsily. _You…_

_C-h-o-r-e-o-g-r-a-p-h_ , supplies Kurt.

 

 _Perfect! Yes, I’d love to. So, I take it you’re in?_ He directs this last at Rachel, who very clearly was unable to follow.

 

She furrows her brow. “I’m – what?”

 

_You’ll be our D-e-b-b-i-e?_

 

“Oh!” _Yes, of course._ “It would be an honor to have two such dashing young men on my arm.”

 

&&&&&

 

By the time Kurt gets off of work on Halloween, he’s only got about two hours to get home and prepare before the guests start arriving. Fortunately, Rachel has been home all afternoon, and Blaine should be arriving just about now to help her, so Kurt should have plenty of time to shower and change before overseeing the finishing touches.

 

He checks his phone as he dodges through the rush hour foot traffic, turning up the volume of his ringtone so that he can actually hear it above the street noise in case of emergency. He finds a pair of texts from Blaine, sent about an hour ago.

 

 _Oh, god, my brother just showed up at my dorm room. Don’t ask me how he got through security_. Then, _I told him about the party, and now he wants to come_.

 

Kurt stops, stock still. Someone bumps into him and snarls something rude that Kurt barely even registers. He has to stop himself from pumping his fist.

 

Blaine’s brother is a mystery that Kurt has been trying to solve for over a year. He’s never seen a picture – he doesn’t even know his _name_. So even if Blaine himself isn’t particularly excited about his brother’s visit, Kurt can’t help but feel that it’s the best surprise he’s gotten since Isabelle Wright hired him on the spot.

 

He texts back, _The more the merrier. As long as he has a costume_.

 

He tucks his phone in his pocket and hurries on his way, more eager than ever to make it home in record time.

 

All three of them are there when he walks through the door 45 minutes later – Rachel, Blaine, and a man that Kurt has never seen before. He has his back turned to the door, but Kurt can tell that he’s tall and has a fantastic head of hair.

 

None of them give any indication that they’ve noticed Kurt’s arrival. Blaine and his brother seem to be having an intense discussion that Rachel is trying and failing to follow. Kurt inches cautiously forward, until he can make out what their hands are saying.

 

 _I’m just saying, little brother, I don’t think anyone is going to be able to tell you’re even wearing a costume_.

 

Blaine grits his teeth.

 

 _That’s why it’s a trio costume_.

 

_It’s a good try, though, a good try. Just go for something more recognizable next time._

 

Blaine looks like he’s about ready to shoot lasers from his eyes. It’s jarring, to see that look on his face. Not a little compelling, too.

 

Kurt is saved from deciding whether or not to make his presence known by Rachel’s sudden appearance at his side.

 

“Thank god you’re here,” she whispers. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

 

Kurt is about to tell her that he, having just arrived, also has no idea, but then Blaine’s brother turns around and Kurt is struck speechless.

 

“Oh, my god,” he manages, finally. “Blaine’s brother is the face of freecreditratingtoday.com. I had his picture in my locker for all of junior year. He’s the other groom in all of my wedding scrapbooks.”

 

Rachel sighs, dreamily.

 

“I know. Do you think he’s single?”

 

“You’re taken, Rachel.”

 

“Brody and I have an agreement,” she says loftily, and Kurt really wants to ask what in the hell that even means, but now is not the time. Blaine looks like he might actually reach out and throttle his brother if someone doesn’t step in. Kurt waves his hand to get their attention. Blaine turns to him sharply, the anger quickly melting off of his face.

 

 _Kurt, hi!_ he says, valiantly slapping on a smile. _This is –_

 

_Blaine’s brother, ---. C-o-o-p-e-r._

 

Cooper has his hand outstretched, smile broad and charming and much more believable than Blaine’s. Kurt takes it, really hoping that his face isn’t flushing too noticeably. He’s pretty sure that Cooper is the handsomest man in North America.

 

 _Nice to meet you_ , signs Kurt, once his hands are free. His skin is still tingling where it touched Cooper’s.

 

_Likewise. Hey, thanks for letting me crash this little --- of yours. I’m only in town for one night, and I was really hoping to spend it with ---._

Blaine rolls his eyes.

_Don’t call me that_.

 

Cooper ignores him.

 

_Anyway, I appreciate it._

 

Kurt is sure his smile is too big to be considered normal, and definitely too toothy, but he kind of can’t control that.

_No problem. Are you in town on a…camera…p-h-o-t-o-s-h-o-o-t?_

_Oh, yeah. The new campaign has a real --- sort of ---. Very New York._

_I’m sorry, it has a what?_

 

_A ---._

 

“Gritty vibe,” says Blaine, finally, when it’s clear that Kurt still isn’t getting it. The look on his face is long-suffering.

 

It’s kind of a lot for Kurt to process, that Blaine’s brother is model Cooper Anderson, who has set Kurt’s heart palpitating on more occasions than he can count on both hands. Kurt honestly expected Blaine’s brother to be good-looking, considering the family genes, but he kind of pictured him more like – well, like a younger version of Blaine’s father. Taciturn, pragmatic, with a hidden artistic side and/or a sharp sense of humor. But now, seeing them together, this makes a lot more sense.

 

Brody and Caleb trickle in as the four of them finish their preparations, Brody in a professional-grade Fiyero costume that makes Rachel swoon on sight and Caleb in what appears to be an old rehearsal leotard. “I’m Mikhail Baryshnikov,” he says when Kurt asks, as if it were obvious.

 

Kurt finds it funny to watch Caleb interact with Cooper, in a mean sort of way, because Caleb is quite obviously nervous around him, and he knows so little ASL that he’s left smiling and nodding unless Blaine is there to interpret.

 

It’s clear that Cooper is not impressed.

 

Guests start arriving about fifteen minutes after the designated start time, a mix of Rachel’s NYADA friends, Blaine’s Joffrey friends, and a smattering of Kurt’s younger colleagues. Including significant others and friends-of-friends, the loft is full to bursting by 9 PM. Kurt, Rachel, and Blaine have barely enough floor space for their performance of “Good Mornin,’” which is nonetheless met with great acclaim by all.

 

The liquor is flowing freely, and the karaoke is so popular that they don’t even have enough dead air to start Kurt’s killer playlist. The atmosphere is just exactly what Kurt was hoping to cultivate – horror-chic with a healthy dose of kitsch and a smidgen of childhood nostalgia. Everything would be perfect if only he’d been able to get his hands on a black light and some dry ice.

 

Cooper seems to be charming everyone in the room, in spite of the communication barrier. Kurt gets it – the man does look particularly dashing in his James Bond tux. Kurt can practically see his teeth gleaming from across the room, even without the black light.

 

Blaine pointedly leaves his brother to his own devices.

 

He dances with Kurt, instead, and with Caleb, and Rachel, and some willowy girls who Kurt has never met but who have to be ballerinas. Blaine isn’t drinking, at least not enough to do more than loosen up his already-limber limbs, but he’s flushed and happy all the same. He keeps gravitating back to Kurt’s side.

 

Eventually, Cooper saunters over and slings an arm around Blaine’s shoulder.

 

 _Hey, ---_. Blaine rolls his eyes. It’s that same sign from before, the one that Kurt didn’t recognize. Seeing it again, it looks like… _little_ , maybe? With Cooper’s hand in the shape of a _b_. That’s actually kind of adorable. _Having fun?_

_I was. You look like you’re enjoying yourself._

_I’m a little out of practice, --- hearing girls. You know how it is._

 

Blaine shifts uncomfortably, but Cooper is not to be deterred.

 

 _Hey, we should get up there,_ he says, nodding toward the stage area. _Show them how it’s done_.

 

Rachel, arm wound with Kurt’s in an attempt to disguise the fact that she’s having a hard time staying upright, seems to catch on to the general topic of conversation. She lights up and bats her eyes.

 

“Oh, do you do karaoke as well?”

 

_Oh, yeah. I taught Blaine here everything he knows. We were famous in our neighborhood –_

 

Blaine’s jaw clenches. He’s half a second from rolling his eyes.

_We were not famous._

_We were. We were pretty famous for our --- Deaf S-i-m-o-n L-e-B-o-n ---._

 

Rachel furrows her brow. “So, yes?”

And then, before Kurt even knows what’s happening, Cooper is dragging Blaine up to the stage for a thoroughly entertaining rendition of “Hungry Like the Wolf” that has the entire room singing along. The choreography is simplistic, the kind a sixteen-year-old might come up with for himself and his gifted kid brother, but they perform it with unabashed gusto.

 

Blaine and Cooper are pretty equally matched on stage – what Cooper lacks in polish, he makes up in charisma – but the easy chemistry between them has these weird moments of tension that Kurt doesn’t know what to make of. There’s a lot of jockeying for the spotlight that sometimes looks more painful than playful. Nevertheless, they more than earn the hearty applause they get at the end.

 

Blaine waves off the requests for encores, though Cooper looks like he might be game. He actually looks a little crestfallen when Blaine makes his way out of the stage area.

 

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine for a while after that. He wonders if he should maybe go check on him, but he knows that he himself would probably want some space. He tries to enjoy the party. He and Rachel pull out their version of “Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead,” sans broomsticks. He dances with his extremely drunk colleague Alanna, who seems to have forgotten that he’s gay, while Rachel and Brody duet on “Love Potion Number Nine.” He eats his body weight in candy corn. Still, he can’t get rid of that niggling feeling that something just isn’t right.

 

He decides to get some air.

 

He makes his way over to the window leading to the fire escape, and he stops short. There are people out there – Blaine and Cooper, focused intently on each other. Kurt can just barely make out their expressive faces and the movement of their hands in the light spilling out through the window. He’s about to leave them alone to talk out whatever it is they’re talking out, but then he catches his own name.

 

_…Kurt is the only person here who can sign. Sort of._

 

Kurt isn’t sure whether to be more proud or insulted. Blaine mostly just looks annoyed.

_What’s your point?_

_My point is that none of these people have the first clue as to who you are._

_And you do?_

_You’re my brother. Of course I do._

_Of course._

 

Even muted through the glass, Blaine’s skepticism is pungent.

_Look, ---, I’m just worried about you._

_Well, don’t be. I’m fine._

_Oh, really? You’ve surrounded yourself with a bunch of hearies who think your language is some kind of neat party trick._

_You play the Deaf card to sleep with hearing girls all the time! How is that any better?_

_You’re letting them turn you into someone you’re not._

_Yeah, and who is that?_

_Someone who lets hearies make the rules for him. You work twice as hard to understand half as much, at best, and none of them even notice. Where is your sense of pride, and self-respect?_

_Will you just stop? Just – you’re my brother. Why can’t you just support me?_

Blaine’s hands are hitting hard, but his eyes tell the story of his hurt. Cooper looks at him for a moment, searching. He moves closer, as if to initiate contact, but Blaine moves away.

_I don’t get it, Blaine. This isn’t you._

_You haven’t known the first thing about me since I was eight years old._

_I know that anyone in your life who can’t even be bothered to learn your name isn’t worth keeping around._

Blaine looks away.

 

_Are you done now? Can you please go back to criticizing my choreography skills instead of my life choices?_

 

Cooper does reach out, then. He claps a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and waits for him to look up. He doesn’t have to wait long.

 

_You don’t need to fit in with these people, Blaine. You’re better than all of them._

 

He doesn’t give Blaine a chance to respond, just squeezes his shoulder and turns to take his leave. Kurt ducks back around the corner just in time. His embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping like that would be endless.

 

Kurt leans casually against the wall, attempting to look as though he’s been standing there for ages, surveying the party and absolutely not semi-accidentally spying on his best friend. He bends down to pick up a drink that’s been abandoned on the floor by his foot, mentally congratulating himself for thinking of this extra touch. He studiously does not look in the direction of the fire escape.

 

Unfortunately, this means that he also doesn’t see Cooper coming until he’s bumping into Kurt’s elbow, causing him to spill the questionable contents of his cup all over his freshly-polished oxfords.

 

 _Sorry_ , Cooper signs, distracted. He starts to move toward the crowd of party-goers, then stops and turns back. _If I know my brother, he’s probably looking for some company right about now_. He doesn’t explain any more than that, just jerks his head in the direction of the fire escape and strides purposefully to the dance floor, charming smile affixed firmly to his face.

 

Kurt doesn’t need any more encouragement than that.

 

Blaine is sitting on the narrow steps, staring up at the sky. His expression could really only be described as miserable. He looks over at Kurt when he notices the flash of movement from the window opening once again, and he scrounges up a tiny smile.

 

 _Hey_ , he says.

 

Kurt hesitates. He sits himself down on the step next to Blaine, close enough that their shoulders touch.

 

_Cooper told me I’d find you here._

_Yeah?_

_He seemed worried._

Blaine nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a while. It’s cold out tonight, cold enough that Kurt feels it through his suit jacket. Their breath mingles, and so does their body heat.

 

 _It’s too bad that we can’t see the stars here_ , says Blaine, eventually. _I always think better when I can see the stars_.

 

_What are you thinking about?_

 

Blaine doesn’t answer – at least, not directly. He turns, and catches Kurt’s eyes.

 

_What do you think about C-a-l-e-b?_

Kurt freezes. He knows he has to tread carefully here. He lets out a breath, long and slow.

_What do you mean?_

_You know me better than anyone. Do you think he’s right for me?_

_Does it really matter what I think?_

 

Blaine sighs and ducks his head. When he looks back up, Kurt can see that he looks exhausted.

 

_Cooper doesn’t approve._

_Why not?_

Blaine makes a face of distaste.

 

_He’s not Deaf enough, I guess._

_Do you wish he were? Deaf, I mean._

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, telegraphing his surprise.

 

_No, of course not._

_Not even a little bit?_

_Well, I mean, I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be easier if he could sign, but I don’t know. Since when are relationships about what’s easy?_

_I suppose._ You make it plenty easy for him, Kurt wants to add, but he doesn’t want to come across antagonistic. _When you love someone, I guess you do what you have to to make it work_.

 

Blaine smiles, eyes soft and sweet and close enough that Kurt can practically feel the brush of eyelashes on his skin. He takes Kurt’s hand.

 

 _Yeah_.

 

&&&&&

 

Cooper is gone by the next morning. Blaine is glum about it for a few days, but all he’ll say when Kurt tentatively asks is that they didn’t leave things on the best of terms.

 

 _Now you can see why I don’t talk about my brother_ , he says with a forced laugh.

 

One positive effect of Cooper’s visit is that Caleb’s presence starts to dwindle. It happens slowly, so slowly that it doesn’t even register for Kurt until Blaine is spending the majority of his free evenings in Bushwick. He and Caleb haven’t exactly broken up, but things certainly seem to be heading in that direction. Kurt knows that he shouldn’t be happy about this, but Blaine really can do a whole lot better.

 

Fall starts to fade, just as quickly as it came. Kurt turns in his updated NYADA application, complete with a show choir national championship and a prestigious internship to round out what he knows was lacking last year in the extracurriculars department. Now, he has only to wait until Carmen Tibideaux sees fit to call him in for a second audition. He keeps himself occupied going through his extensive collection of sheet music and even more extensive iTunes library to find the perfect song to audition with. It has to be spectacular this time, so much so that she literally can’t turn him away.

 

Blaine is always willing to give him advice when Kurt asks, but there’s really only so much he can critique. He has no idea if a song’s register is too high for Kurt’s voice or if it’s obvious that he’s straining for the low notes. He doesn’t even know what Kurt’s voice sounds like.

 

It makes something sink in his stomach, when Kurt remembers that. He’s not proud of it, and he tries to ignore it, but it’s there. It matters to him that Blaine will never hear his voice.

 

Sometimes, late at night when he has trouble sleeping, he finds himself attempting to translate his favorite songs into ASL. He’s been watching YouTube videos since that first night at Callbacks, but it’s only recently that he’s felt the urge to try it himself. He tells himself that it’s good practice for his language skills, and it is. There’s just…more to it than that. It feels private, and personal, and like something he would never want to share. Like the hearts he absent-mindedly doodled on his notepad at work, the ones with _K + B_ printed lovingly inside them. He doesn’t let himself think hard enough about it to connect the dots.

 

Soon enough, the holiday season is upon them. Kurt was planning to go home for Thanksgiving, but it turns out that holiday plane tickets are actually really expensive unless you buy them in, like, July, and Rachel has decided that she’s boycotting Lima for the foreseeable future. Kurt really doesn’t want to leave her alone. Or, ew, alone in the apartment with Brody for four whole days – who knows what they could get up to on Kurt’s carefully-chosen flea market furniture?

 

His dad understands, although he does sound disappointed. Hearing that, Kurt is hit with a wave of homesickness the like of which he hasn’t experienced since September. He wavers, and he almost caves. But then his dad rallies.

 

“Well, I guess it’s for the best that you save your money anyway. What with tuition fees coming up and all.”

 

Kurt doesn’t bother correcting him, or tempering his optimism – it feels too good to hear how thoroughly his dad believes in him.

 

It turns out that Blaine’s parents have been planning on a New York Thanksgiving for months, so what Kurt thought was going to be a do-it-yourself orphans’ Thanksgiving is now an Anderson family affair. Kurt volunteers the loft to host dinner, as Blaine’s dorm has no kitchen capabilities, and eating Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant in Chinatown just wouldn’t be right.

 

Kurt spends most of his Wednesday evening cleaning the apartment to his toughest standards, recruiting a reluctant Rachel before she can come up with a fake allergy or some other excuse (“I can’t be around bleach, Kurt. Do you even know how damaging it is to your vocal cords to breathe in toxic chemicals?”). He knows it’s a little silly, but he still feels like he needs to impress the Andersons. Aside from that dinner a year and a half ago, his interactions with them have been pretty confined to accidental and vaguely uncomfortable run-ins at the grocery store. They make him feel like he has something to prove.

 

The rest of the evening Kurt spends on food prep. He has everything required for the perfect Thanksgiving feast – the Anderson family favorites, as relayed by Blaine, intermixed with a smattering of Kurt’s own favorites and a serving of tofurkey for Rachel. The fridge is practically bursting by the end of the night, filled to the brim with peeled green beans and rolled-out pie crusts and cranberry sauce setting in its mold, not to mention the giant turkey marinating on the top shelf.

 

Rachel looks at him like he’s gone a little crazy, which, okay, he can see how it might seem that way, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Sometimes the girl really does have tact.

 

Kurt goes to bed later than he hoped and sets his alarm for ungodly early. The Andersons are due at 10, which probably really means 9:55 at the latest, and Kurt wants to be as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as possible when they arrive.

 

With the power of a long, hot shower, and copious amounts of coffee, he just about manages it.

 

He takes extra care going through his closet for just the right look – he wants to strike the perfect balance between fashion-forward and debonair, with perhaps a grace note of sexy. Rachel, who has been awake and dressed for hours by the time Kurt emerges from behind his privacy curtain, gives him a once-over and a wolf-whistle, so that’s nice. Her own look is surprisingly demure, given her more recent fashion choices, more reminiscent of Lima Rachel than New York Rachel. Kurt is touched. He knows it’s her way of showing solidarity.

 

The knock comes at 9:53 sharp. Kurt sucks in a deep breath, does one last mirror check (hair in place, outfit wrinkle-free, expression both welcoming and confident), and slides the door open.

 

Blaine is there on the other side, beaming and blinding and all Kurt can see for a moment.

 

 _Hi_ , signs Blaine.

 

He’s genuinely bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Kurt can tell. He probably woke up that way. David and Gloria are equally cheery, which puts Kurt immediately at ease. The family resemblance has never been more apparent to Kurt.

 

 _Welcome_ , he signs, careful to look the three of them in the eye.

 

And then he freezes.

 

Because there, standing oh-so-casually just behind the trio of Andersons in their holiday best, is Sebastian Smythe.

 

Sebastian smirks at Kurt’s open-mouthed shock, and doesn’t say a word.

 

 _Sebastian. I – I didn’t realize you were coming_.

 

Blaine winces.

 

_You didn’t get my texts?_

 

Kurt blinks dumbly. He could kick himself.

 

 _No_.

 

Of course charging his phone is the one thing Kurt forgot to do last night.

 

The Andersons are starting to look a little uncomfortable, standing in the doorway. Kurt mentally kicks himself, again, and stands to the side.

 

 _Please come in_ , he signs, redoubling his efforts to smile welcomingly. He takes their coats like the good host that he is and hangs them on the coat stand by the door. Sebastian still hasn’t said a word. He’s just looking around the apartment with his eagle eyes, cataloguing every flaw, Kurt is sure.

 

 _…It was such a nice surprise that Sebastian could make it out here with us_ , Gloria is saying. _Cooper got stuck in LA at the last minute –_

_He’s doing a photo shoot for T-u-m-s, if you can believe it. Such a huge ---,_ puts in David with a proud grin.

 

 _So we were just thrilled when Sebastian stepped in to make sure that second hotel room wouldn’t go to waste_.

 

Gloriapats Sebastian on the cheek with an affectionate wink. Sebastian smiles at her, an actual, genuine smile.

 

 _I wouldn’t have given up the chance to spend time with my favorite family for anything_.

 

He’s laying on the charm pretty thick, a wicked twinkle in his eye to take off the edge. Gloria shakes her head and Blaine rolls his eyes, but they’re both smiling. Kurt kind of wants to gag.

 

It’s then that Rachel makes her presence known. She dives right in and introduces herself without waiting for Kurt to do the honors for her. Her signing is still pretty rough, but her show smile is as polished as ever.

 

The Andersons don’t seem to know quite what to make of her. Sebastian just seems amused, but he kind of always does. Whether or not it’s a cruel kind of amusement remains to be seen.

 

Kurt recovers admirably, if he does say so himself, and performs his hostly duties with aplomb. He gives his guests the grand tour, offers them light refreshments, and graciously tells them to make themselves at home, all with his head held high.

 

Soon enough, Gloria and Blaine are ensconced with Kurt and Rachel in the kitchen, while Sebastian and David park themselves in front of the TV for some kind of sports thing. Blaine keeps oscillating between the two groups, much to his mother’s chagrin, lively as a hummingbird lighting from flower to flower. He’s full of laughter, and crinkle-eyed smiles. Kurt’s heart takes a dip every time Blaine settles himself on the sofa next to Sebastian, his body so clearly comfortable with their nearness. Kurt ignores it, along with the way his heart soars whenever Blaine flicks a glance in his direction.

 

Gloria, as it turns out, is a total control freak in the kitchen. She has an actual schedule drawn up, complete with diagrams and contingency plans and time tables specified to the second. Kurt lets her take command without a fight – she’s clearly in her element, tossing orders over her shoulder with one hand while she stirs and chops and mashes with the other. She’s like…Gordon Ramsay, with less swearing and more smiling. Kurt is perfectly content with his role as her sous chef.

 

Sebastian ambles over every once in a while, stealing tidbits of this or that and earning playful reprimands from Gloria. He barely says a word to Kurt, but the way he looks at him is…calculating. Kurt tries to ignore that, too.

 

Today is a holiday. It’s a time for gratitude and forgiveness. Not obsessing over old grudges.

 

Brody arrives at some point, bearing moderately expensive white wine and thoroughly distracting Rachel from her role as bread dough kneader. He dutifully takes over for her while she perches herself on the countertop and chatters away about the latest in NYADA gossip. It’s a little rude, but Kurt doesn’t call them out – it’s not like the Andersons would care about Maisy Wilson’s astonishing upset at last week’s Midnight Madness, and Brody’s signing is even more rudimentary than Rachel’s.

 

Kurt is exhausted by the time they finally sit down for dinner, and so hungry he could eat his own arm. Someone – Blaine, he thinks – spread out their only table cloth and lit some long, tapered candles. The effect of the warm, flickering light is quite lovely, particularly once the food has been laid out in all of its fall-colored glory.

 

The table is barely big enough to fit all of them, but they manage it with some strategic seating arrangements. Blaine sits on one side, sandwiched between his mother and Rachel, with Kurt and David on the other side and Sebastian and Brody at either head. Nobody ends up too squished, although a little accidental elbowing and tangling of the feet is inevitable.

 

Gloria raises her glass in a toast. Her smile is still in place, and, remarkably, so is her hair. Kurt’s own is starting to droop after more than five hours of leaning over a stove, and he has so much product in it that he was actually a little afraid it would catch fire.

 

_I would like to extend a warm thank you to our wonderful hosts, without whom this meal would not have been possible. Thank you, Kurt and Rachel, for inviting us into your home._

 

It takes every bit of concentration that Kurt can muster to follow her one-handed signing, even though it’s clear to him that she’s slowed her normal rate to accommodate him.

 

 _You’re welcome_ , he signs, with a glance to Rachel. _It’s our pleasure_.

 

 _Yes, you’re welcome_ , signs Rachel, catching on.

 

Blaine raises his own glass, smiling softly.

 

 _To Kurt and Rachel_.

 

 _To friends and family coming together_ , amends Kurt.

 

They all clink their glasses together, and then, finally, it’s time to dig in.

 

The dinner conversation is much harder to follow than Kurt expected. Signs are flying fast and furious and usually one-handed, and Kurt loses the thread whenever he looks down at his plate to see what he’s loading onto his fork. He almost misses his mouth once or twice, distracted by a story Blaine is telling about one of his instructors.

 

Rachel is the only one who catches him surreptitiously licking the stray gravy from the corner of his mouth. She bites her lip against a smile and looks quickly away.

 

Things slow down, eventually, or maybe Kurt just gets better at tracking the conversation. He starts jumping in, even when he isn’t directly addressed. He starts helping Blaine with interpreting duties, too, though Rachel seems pretty determined to muddle through in ASL and Brody’s interest in the conversation is polite at best.

 

Sebastian just sits back and watches wryly. Blaine tosses him a look, but it’s clear that he isn’t particularly surprised at his friend’s behavior. Kurt isn’t either, frankly. Sebastian probably finds it hilarious to watch a bunch of hearing people struggle to communicate when he has the power to help.

 

 _So, are we ever going to meet this boy of yours?_ asks Gloria, when the conversation comes to a natural lull. Kurt can feel the table’s focus shift to Blaine in the space of a heartbeat. Blaine looks momentarily startled, but he covers it admirably.

 

_You mean C-a-l-e-b?_

 

Gloria raises an eyebrow, amused.

_Who else, darling?_

Blaine looks down at his plate, moving his green beans around with his fork.

 

 _He isn’t my boy anymore,_ he says, simply. _We broke up._

 

Gloria exchanges a look with her husband. Her expression isn’t easy to read, but Kurt wouldn’t hesitate to call it pleased. Sebastian, too, has perked up.

 

 _Oh, yeah? Why is that?_ he asks quickly. His eyes are laser-focused on Blaine.

 

Blaine hesitates.

 

_I realized we didn’t really have anything in common._

 

Kurt knows what that means. He’s pretty sure that everyone at the table knows what that means.

 

 _I see. Is there anyone else on the horizon?_ Gloria asks.

 

Blaine doesn’t let his gaze waver from his mother.

 

 _Not at the moment_.

 

David is the one who shifts the topic, after an awkwardly-long moment.

 

_So, Sebastian, you must be busy getting your college applications together._

_Yeah. I already applied early decision to C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a, but it can’t hurt to have a few back-up schools just in case_.

 

Kurt can’t help but feel that this is a dig at him.

 

 _C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a?_ asks Blaine quizzically. _I thought you wanted G-a-l-l-a-u-d-e-t_.

 

_C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a has one of the best law schools in the country. I figure it can’t hurt to get my foot in the door now._

 

Kurt is sure it doesn’t hurt that Columbia also happens to be in New York City, the very same city that Blaine just so happens to live in.

 

 _With your grades, I’m sure you’ll be a shoo-in_ , signs Gloria.

 

David nods his agreement, and reaches out to clap a hand to Sebastian’s shoulder.

 

_They’ll be lucky to have you. And it’ll be nice for us to have both of our boys in the same city. Now, if only we could find a way to lure Cooper back from the west coast…_

 

Kurt very forcibly stops himself from rolling his eyes. Sebastian looks both smug and touched – the combination is not attractive.

 

The meal passes pleasantly and largely without incident, after that. Gloria adores Kurt’s stuffing and practically begs him for the recipe, and David actually looks at him with real interest when he learns that Kurt is interning at Vogue.com. They end up having a really nice conversation about fashion in advertising, and it even turns out that they have some acquaintances in common. Blaine is beaming at them unabashedly by the end.

 

Even Sebastian likes his pumpkin pie enough to compliment him about it – Sebastian thinks he’s complimenting Gloria, but the effect is the same. He can’t exactly take it back when he realizes.

 

It kind of feels like Kurt is starting to win them over.

 

&&&&&

 

Rachel and Brody leave as soon after dinner as politely possible, escaping to an orphans’ party thrown by one of Brody’s friends. Rachel mouths a big “Sorry” to Kurt as she heads out the door, but the day has gone so well that Kurt doesn’t even mind that she’s abandoning him.

 

Sebastian and David take on clean-up duty, while Gloria, Kurt, and Blaine retire to the living room to put their feet up. Blaine is still intrigued by whatever sportsy thing is playing on TV, but it seems to be almost over, if Kurt is interpreting the little numbers at the top of the screen correctly. He’s thinking of breaking out a little _Downton Abbey_ for later – it seems like the most likely contender for a general consensus in this crowd.

 

He turns to Gloria to solicit her opinion, but she’s rifling through her handbag. She triumphantly produces a pack of cards and sets it on the coffee table. Kurt cocks his head, intrigued.

 

 _Kurt_ , she says, a twinkle in her eye, _have you ever played P-i-n-o-c-h-l-e?_

 

 _No_ , he signs hesitantly.

 

He glances at Blaine, who shrugs and tells him, _Go for it. Just don’t let her con you into betting_.

 

Kurt picks up the rules fairly quickly. He doesn’t come from a card-playing family, but Rachel and her dads used to rope him into a game of Spades whenever he stayed for dinner. “It’s so much more fun when we can play in teams,” they’d chorus, cloying show smiles on display. It didn’t take long for Kurt to figure out that he was being used in a long-standing Berry family grudge match. Which actually made for pretty good entertainment in and of itself.

 

After the first training hand, it becomes pretty clear who Blaine inherited his competitive streak from. Gloria has no qualms at all about beating Kurt ruthlessly into the ground. Blaine looks over every once in a while and gives Kurt pointers, and Gloria does take the time to explain why she played the way she did and how she would have played Kurt’s hand differently, but Kurt’s score still looks pretty dismal.

 

 _It’s okay_ , says Blaine encouragingly, looking over their score sheet. _The only one who can beat her is my dad._

_Sometimes_ , she puts in.

 

Blaine rolls his eyes.

 

_Right, yes, sometimes. You’re still the family champion._

 

 _That’s right._ She turns to Kurt and smiles warmly. _And you’re playing much better than Blaine did his first time_.

_I was seven!_ Blaine protests indignantly.

 

She pats him on the cheek with an affectionate wink, but otherwise doesn’t respond. His look of disgruntlement softens.

 

Before Kurt knows it, the cheering on the TV is getting louder, and then Blaine is excited and cheering, too, out of his seat and pumping his fist in the air, and then it kind of seems like the game must be over, because the field floods with people who keep hugging and slapping each other on the butt or whatever it is they do to celebrate. Blaine turns off the TV and practically bounces over to the kitchen to report on the game to his dad and Sebastian.

 

 _He seems happy_ , says Gloria, smiling fondly after her son.

 

 _I think his team won_ , says Kurt, most of his mind on the hand they’re playing.

 

_I don’t just mean today._

 

Oh. Kurt re-focuses his attention on Gloria, who’s watching him carefully.

_Yeah, he – I mean, I think he is._

_Well, you would know._

_What do you mean?_ says Kurt, carefully. He’s having a hard time reading her tone, and he can’t quite tell where this is going.

 

_It’s clear that you’re very close. He talks about you a lot. He’s very…comfortable with you._

_He’s one of my best friends._

She nods, clearly chewing on her thoughts.

 

_I’m glad he has you. Cooper told us some things that made us worry after Halloween, but you’ve been a good friend to him._

 

Kurt blinks. That isn’t what he was expecting.

 

_Thank you?_

She smiles.

_Your signing has gotten pretty good, too._

_Thank you. Again._

_We’ve always been…wary of encouraging his friendships with hearing children, which I’m sure you can understand. We never wanted him to feel like he had to compromise himself for other people’s convenience. It’s a relief to see that he at least has someone here that he can be himself with._

 

Kurt nods. He has no idea what to say. It doesn’t matter, though, because Blaine is back before he has a chance to figure it out. He settles on the couch next to Kurt and leans over his shoulder to look at his cards and give him advice.

 

Gloria shoots him one last smile – secretive, just between the two of them – then turns that sharp focus of hers back to the cards in her hand.

 

Kurt follows suit, but he can’t help but cheer on the inside.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt doesn’t see the Andersons again until Sunday, when they insist on taking him out for a thank you brunch. It’s just as well – Black Friday Kurt can be a little much to take even for people he’s not trying to impress.

 

They meet at this place in the Village that Kurt has heard good things about but never actually been to, due to the fact that it’s well out of his price range. The Andersons make it perfectly clear that they’re paying and that he should order what he actually wants rather than what he thinks he should.

 

 _We want to treat you_ , insists Gloria.

 

She and David are in high spirits. The smiles they aim in Kurt’s direction have never been more genuine. They’re kind and funny, and they laugh without restraint, even when some of the other patrons shoot them odd looks.

 

Sebastian, on the other hand, is just kind of…weird. He responds politely when addressed, even by Kurt, and otherwise stares broodingly into his eggs. When called upon to smile, he can’t quite make it past a grimace. If it weren’t for the weird tension between him and Blaine, Kurt would chalk it up to a hangover. As it is, he doesn’t know what to think.

 

He ignores it, as he’s been attempting to ignore Sebastian and his issues since they arrived in his life. He busies himself chatting with the Andersons about their New York exploits instead. In addition to oodles of shopping and restaurants and museums, they apparently managed to get half-price tickets to an ASL-interpreted performance of Wicked. Blaine and Gloria have quite a lot to say about it – Gloria gushes over everything from the set design to the quality of the performances, while Blaine delivers an incredibly detailed critique of the choreography that Kurt can really only follow because he’s seen the show three times and practically has it memorized. David admits sheepishly that he fell asleep halfway through the second act.

 

Sebastian just says, _It wasn’t my thing_. Which is funny, because Kurt is pretty sure that “Dancing Through Life” should be Sebastian’s theme song.

 

Blaine’s expression falters. Maybe he had the same thought.

 

They’re in that lull between finishing their food and asking for the check, idly discussing the probability that the Andersons’ flight home will be delayed, when Sebastian abruptly pushes his chair back and stands up.

 

 _I need to use the restroom_ , he announces, with a pointed look at Blaine that none of them could possibly miss. He turns on his heel and strides away so quickly Kurt is worried he’s going to knock into someone’s table and spill their coffee.

 

Blaine stares at Sebastian’s retreating back. He sighs.

 

 _I’d better go after him_ , he says.

 

The Andersons don’t look particularly shocked at this bizarre turn of events.

 

 _They must have a few things to work out_ , says Gloria, vaguely, as she watches Blaine follow Sebastian at a much more careful pace. Kurt can’t tell whether or not she knows more than she’s saying.

 

The three of them make conversation for a time, but it’s hard when their minds are clearly elsewhere. Kurt knows his own eyes keep trailing back toward the restrooms.

 

 _Maybe I should go check on them_ , says Kurt, after what feels like ages but is probably no more than ten minutes.

 

Gloria presses her lips together.

 

_I don’t think –_

_Let the boy go, Gloria_. David taps his watch, impatient. _We have a plane to catch. We don’t have time to indulge their dramatics_.

 

He signals the server for the check, and Kurt slips off.

 

Kurt isn’t sure what he expected to find when he opened the bathroom door – the two of them duking it out in front of the urinals, or making out against the stalls, or perhaps engaging in a dance battle by the sinks – but it wasn’t this. On first glance, the room appears empty. Kurt actually has a moment of panic where he thinks the two of them may have crawled out a window and abandoned him here with Blaine’s parents, but then he sees it. Two pairs of feet, facing each other in the handicapped stall. He can hear them, too, the sound of their hands brushing and smacking as they talk.

 

He approaches, cautiously, until he can see enough through the door slats to make out what’s happening. He doesn’t want to interrupt, if they’re in the middle of something sensitive.

 

The two of them are too engrossed in each other to take notice of him.

 

 _…last night. I don’t know what you expect from me!_ Blaine’s expressive face is written all over with frustration – and yet there’s something soft and pleading in the way he looks up at Sebastian. _I would have given anything for you to say these things to me four years ago, you know that? Anything. But you didn’t – you broke my heart. And I got over you._

Kurt recoils. He should leave, he knows that. He shouldn’t be here.

 

He stays.

Sebastian’s eyes are wide and wild. The control he usually wields over himself like a shield has clearly buckled.

_No. I don’t accept that. We were 14, Blaine! We were kids! What the fuck did I know about love? All I knew was that you scared the hell out of me._

_I_ scared _you?_

_You don’t – you were the first person in my life who made me feel like I was whole, like I was a whole person and not something that could be sent back to the manufacturer for repairs. You were the first person who even tried. You’ve never understood what that meant to me, Blaine._ I _didn’t understand what that meant to me. When I look at you, I just – it was too much for me, then. I couldn’t handle it._

Blaine is pressing his lips together. He looks like he might actually cry.

 

 _Sebastian…_ , he signs, trailing off.

 

Sebastian moves closer. His face is stark, pleading, eyes focused and cutting through to the heart.

 

_Just give me a chance._

 

Blaine’s expression gentles. His hand twitches, as if it longs to reach out and offer physical comfort.

_I care about you_ , he says, _I care about you so much –_

 

Sebastian shakes his head, jaw clamped tightly shut.

_Don’t._

_But I’m not in love with you. And you’re not in love with me, either._

_You don’t get to tell me how I feel._

_You’re not going to lose me, I promise you’re not. I’ll always have room for you in my life. Okay?_

 

Sebastian doesn’t say anything, just stares at Blaine helplessly. There are tears glistening in his eyes that spill over when Blaine pulls him close. Blaine holds him, one hand guiding his head to Blaine’s sturdy shoulder, the other rubbing soothing circles into Sebastian’s back. Sebastian remains frozen for a moment, then wraps his arms around Blaine’s middle as tight as he can. His back goes slightly hunched. Blaine closes his eyes and rests his head against Sebastian’s. Their bodies sway together, just slightly.

 

It isn’t long before Sebastian pulls back, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. It only serves to make them redder.

 

 _You’re my favorite person, you know that?_ he says, with an attempt at his usual slick smile. It isn’t particularly successful.

_You’re mine, too._

 

Sebastian’s smile twists ruefully.

 

_No, I’m not._

_Sebastian –_

_I love you._

 

He says it firmly, with finality, daring Blaine to question it.

 

He doesn’t.

 

_I love you, too._

 

There’s a pause, then, a silence. Blaine looks toward the door, and it jolts Kurt back to his senses. He hurries out of the bathroom, as quietly as he can, guilt starting to set in. He waits a good ten seconds, then goes back in.

 

They’re still sequestered in the stall.

 

“Blaine? Sebastian?” he calls, aware that Sebastian, at least, will hear him if he’s loud enough.

 

They emerge quickly, Sebastian as cool as a cucumber and Blaine starting to go a little red in the face.

 

 _It’s not what it looks like_ , he explains hurriedly. _We were just talking some things out_.

 

 _Your dad is starting to get impatient_ , says Kurt, simply.

 

Blaine smiles gratefully, still flustered. Sebastian doesn’t even look at him – at either of them. He checks his hair in the mirror and walks out the door, Blaine following on his heels.

 

Kurt is left alone.

 

&&&&&

 

With the end of the semester approaching for both Blaine and Rachel, the two of them are busier than ever, and Kurt finds himself alone more often than he’d like. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate alone time – he treasures it, actually, and is perfectly capable of entertaining himself – but sometimes there can be a fine line between being alone and being lonely. He finds himself missing his best friends.

 

So of course he pounces on the opportunity when Blaine tells him he’s managed to wrangle a Saturday afternoon free just before the crush of finals week. Rachel is at school with Brody, practicing for her Winter Showcase performance, or maybe for her never-ending quest to best Cassie July, the dance teacher from hell, or for an Off-Off Broadway audition – the reason really wasn’t clear when she yelled it to him over her shoulder at I-haven’t-had-my-coffee o’clock this morning. In any case, they have the loft to themselves all afternoon.

 

Blaine arrives at exactly 1:00, just as Kurt is pulling his perfectly-timed chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. He greets Kurt with a half-hug, the other arm hampered with a bulky cloth bag.

 

 _What have we got there?_ asks Kurt with interest.

 

Blaine grins and sets his bag on the table.

 

 _Scrapbooking supplies_ , he says, inviting Kurt to peek inside. _I’m woefully behind, and I know that you’ve been meaning to start a book for your first year in New York. I figured we could work on them together._

 

Kurt is touched that Blaine remembered what he’s sure wasn’t much more than a passing comment. He does love a good scrapbook, but it’s been hard to find the time to start such a big project.

 

 _That sounds perfect_ , he says.

 

They push back the couch and spread themselves out in front of the coffee table, where Kurt has set up a veritable feast of treats perfect for a cozy afternoon.

 

 _Do you mind if I take my shoes and socks off?_ asks Blaine politely, after a moment.

 

 _Go right ahead_.

 

Blaine smiles gratefully and undoes the precise little knots in his oxfords. He eases out of them with a small wince and wiggles his toes around before setting to work on his charmingly turquoise socks. He folds them neatly and stuffs them into his shoes, sighing with relief. He glances sheepishly at Kurt.

 

 _Sorry, I know that’s kind of gross._ Nutcracker _rehearsals have been pretty intense, and my feet aren’t very happy about it._

_No, don’t worry. I’m not – it’s – it’s fine. I’m not grossed out_.

 

On the contrary, there’s something…intimate about seeing Blaine’s naked feet. They’re battered and bruised and not exactly pretty, but Kurt knows that it takes a lot of trust for Blaine to show the parts of himself that are imperfect.

 

Blaine smiles and spreads his legs in an inhumanly wide stretch that seems as natural to him as breathing. He’s clearly limited more by the unforgiving tightness of his pants than he is by his own muscles and joints.

 

Kurt has to stop himself from gaping. It’s surreal to see what Blaine’s body is capable of here, in this mundane setting, in a way that it isn’t when Blaine is on stage. It’s also vaguely – well, in this position, there are several parts of Blaine that are put on prominent display that Kurt actually has to will his eyes away from.

 

At least he isn’t wearing his tights.

 

Kurt is certainly more comfortable with his own body and its needs now than he ever was in high school, but that doesn’t mean he likes the idea of blatantly objectifying his hot best friend for his own gratification. It just feels…wrong. Like he’s taking something from Blaine that Blaine never offered.

 

If his growing collection of classy erotica – password-protected and hidden in the darkest depths of his hard drive – happens to prominently feature tight-bodied brunets with puppy-dog eyes, well, that’s a totally different thing and nobody’s business but his.

 

They chat easily when their hands aren’t busy performing delicate operations with the edging scissors. Blaine catches Kurt up on school and Kurt catches Blaine up on work, and then they’re free to gossip about the friends they have in common. Which really just means Rachel and Brody, but the two of them do provide a lot of great material.

 

Finally, Kurt works up the courage to bring up the topic that’s been nagging at him for almost two weeks.

 

_So, things were kind of…weird when Sebastian was here. Is there something going on with him?_

Blaine looks taken aback, but he can’t have been caught entirely by surprise – Kurt did find them in a bathroom stall together. Blaine hesitates, obviously weighing his words carefully.

 

_There were some…unresolved issues that came to light._

Kurt nods encouragingly.

 

_Yeah?_

_I think…it’s been hard, us being apart for so long. We were pretty inseparable, growing up._

_I gathered._

_I mean, I have you, and Rachel, and my friends at the Joffrey, but Sebastian doesn’t really have anyone else._

Kurt doesn’t say anything to that. He waits, but it looks like Blaine is done.

 

He makes a decision.

 

_I…I saw you, Blaine. In the bathroom, before I… I didn’t mean to, but I did._

 

Blaine freezes, his expression suddenly eerily unreadable.

 

_How much did you see?_

_A lot,_ he admits.

 

He doesn’t want to lie. He feels guilty enough for somehow making a habit of eavesdropping on Blaine’s private moments. The least he can do is be honest about it.

 

Blaine’s eyes cut to his, jaw clenched.

 

_We were in a bathroom stall, Kurt. How did you accidentally see anything at all?_

_I came in to check on you, and I didn’t want to interrupt, so I –_

_Spied. You spied._

 

Kurt feels caught off balance, now. This isn’t going how he expected, at all.

_No, I told you, it wasn’t on purpose!_

_Oh, come on! That is such crap. You could have left the room or flicked the lights or – or something, I don’t know, anything besides standing there and watching us when we clearly thought we had privacy._

_You were in a public restroom, Blaine._

_It doesn’t matter! You exploited the fact that we’re Deaf to eavesdrop on a private conversation._

_That is insane! I would never –_ Kurt pauses. He looks away, he has to. He takes a deep breath, and another, and meets Blaine’s eyes once more. _Blaine, I’m sorry that I saw something that I shouldn’t have. Really, I am. But it’s not like I, you know, snuck into your room and hid under your bed or something. I made a mistake._

 

_Yes, you did!_

 

Blaine’s eyes flash dangerously, but then the ire seems to drain out of him. Kurt closes his eyes for a moment, relieved. He really doesn’t know how to deal with Blaine yelling at him.

 

Blaine sighs.

 

 _Look, you don’t get it_ , he says. _I know that. The thing is – it’s just – I really hate feeling taken advantage of._

 

Kurt’s heart pings. Blaine looks so vulnerable, and hurt – it’s worse than seeing him angry.

_I’m sorry I made you feel that way._

_It’s kind of a sore spot for me._

_Like when people try to order for you in restaurants?_

 

Blaine smiles, only a little grudgingly.

 

_Or when they try to help me speech-read by talking so slowly that all of their words become distorted beyond recognition._

 

Kurt laughs. He allows himself a moment to enjoy the connection that Blaine is offering him. He braces himself.

 

_In the interest of full disclosure…_

 

Blaine eyes him warily.

 

_Yes?_

_I saw some of your fight with Cooper on Halloween, too. I didn’t say anything because you told me about it right after and it just…didn’t seem important._

 

Blaine nods, lips pursed tightly together in a way that Kurt has come to understand means he’s trying to gain control of his feelings.

 

 _Thank you for telling me_ , he says eventually.

 

 _I’m sorry_.

 

_I know._

_Although, to be fair, you were standing right in front of a very well-lit window that time._

 

Blaine snorts. He hangs his head for a brief moment, rueful smile at his lips.

 

_I know._

 

His eyes find Kurt’s. His smile softens, and Kurt knows he’s been forgiven.

 

They work in silence for a time, neither of them wanting to disturb the fragile peace.

 

Eventually, Kurt ventures, _So, did your issues get…resolved?_

_I think so, yeah. I mean, I think he gets that we wouldn’t be…right, together._

 

 _Who would be?_ asks Kurt, before he can engage his brain-to-hand filter. _Right for you, I mean. Theoretically._

 

He really hopes he isn’t as red as he feels.

 

 _I don’t know,_ says Blaine, thoughtfully. He sets down his glue and looks up at the ceiling, as if hoping it will inspire him. _Someone…artistic, and romantic. Someone who gets me, and respects me, and makes me feel…safe, I suppose._

_Someone Deaf?_ asks Kurt, cautiously.

_Not necessarily. As long as he’s willing to learn._

Blaine smiles at him, then, and Kurt’s heart just about stops. It feels like a moment. He stills, and waits, and tries not to disturb the possibility that’s suddenly suspended in the air between them.

 

Blaine turns back to his work. Kurt lets out his breath and tries, in vain, not to be disappointed.

 

 _I think Cooper was right about that, at least_ , Blaine continues. _I don’t think I could ever really be myself with someone who doesn’t sign._

 

_I get that._

_I know you do_.

 

Blaine smiles at him again, but Kurt knows better than to get his hopes up this time.

 

By the end of the afternoon, the floor is barely visible beneath the scraps of photographs and ribbons and hand-made paper that they’ve strewn around them.

 

 _It’s like rainbow snow_ , Blaine comments, running his other hand through the detritus. He shoots Kurt what can only be described as a look of mischief, and Kurt catches on the second before it happens. He has just enough time to clench his eyes shut and raise his hands protectively above his head before he’s being showered with the stuff.

 

He gasps. It’s not comfortable. There are prickly edges.

 

Blaine is grinning at him when he surfaces, far too proud of himself. Kurt, of course, retaliates with the kind of competitive spirit that won him a national show choir championship, and, soon enough, they’re red-faced and panting at a stand-still, both of them ridiculous with paper bits sticking out of their meticulously-styled hair. Blaine has a shallow paper cut on the slope of his neck that Kurt only feels a little bad for, considering who started this fight. Kurt can feel the super-fine glitter starting to seep into his pores.

 

And yet, somehow, neither of them can seem to stop smiling.

 

Once they’ve cleaned up, they swap books and settle on the couch to admire each other’s work. Blaine’s style is distinctly…well, _Blaine_ – old-fashioned charm with a bold, modern twist and just a dash of drama – but the story he tells is familiar. It’s the same story Kurt just spent several hours piecing together in his own book. His heart warms, knowing that the memories they treasure most are the ones that they share.

 

 _This was really fun_ , says Blaine, as Kurt walks him reluctantly to the door.

 

Kurt nods his agreement. He wants to fold his arms protectively around himself, but he needs his hands to talk.

 

_It was nice, having someone to craft with who’s as passionate about color schemes as I am._

 

Blaine smiles warmly. His eyes go wide as he suddenly remembers something.

 

_Oh, hey, I was wondering – I was doing some research online, and I found out about this meet-up for LGBT Deafies in the area. It’s a regular thing, happens the second Sunday of every month at this Starbucks in Chelsea. I was thinking about checking it out. Do you think – I mean, do you want to go with me?_

 

Kurt’s heart thuds.

 

_You mean, like…_

_I just thought it might be fun – you know, get to know some new people, maybe meet some cute guys._

 

And it drops. Again. But Blaine looks so earnest beneath his bright smile, and maybe even a little shy, like this really, truly matters to him and he’s hesitant to show how much.

 

Kurt rallies.

 

 _It does sound like fun, but…I mean, I’m not Deaf_.

 

_I know, but you can sign. And I want you there – unless you’re not comfortable, I wouldn’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with –_

_Okay, I’ll go. I’d love to_.

 

Blaine positively beams.

 

 _Awesome_.

 

He leaves Kurt with a lingering hug.

 

Kurt slides the door closed behind him and throws himself on the couch with a sigh. He turns on the TV, more than ready for a little AMC therapy.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt is discouraged, and that’s not something he would admit to lightly. It’s just really hard not to feel that way when your best friends are spectacularly talented supernovas whose dreams always seem to be just within reach while you are, apparently, just some hack whose most notable talent is the ability to pull off gold lamé pants. He doesn’t know if he’s even going to get a second audition for NYADA after Carmen Tibideaux’s tepid reaction to his audition tape. And he really thought that the originality of putting an acoustic stamp on Wham! would set him apart.

 

Well, maybe it did – just not in the right way.

 

He sighs, and tries to bring his attention back to the very accomplished performance in front of him. At least Blaine is here to keep him company while Rachel prepares to sing. He might lose his mind if he were stuck here by himself, in a room full of Broadway luminaries who could literally make or break his career if he ever got the chance to sing in front of them.

 

He certainly has more soul than this girl, he huffs to himself. Her costume is the most interesting thing about her performance.

 

Blaine nudges him gently.

 

 _Her technique is pretty good, but, god, is she boring_ , he signs, surreptitiously.

 

Kurt smiles.

 

_It’s like you read my mind._

_She has no passion._

_She has no soul._

_Well, that might be a little harsh._

 

Kurt bites his lip. He has to stop talking, or it’ll become painfully obvious where his attention is.

 

He claps politely when the performance is over, schooling his expression so that it doesn’t broadcast his relief. He glances at his program – one more performance, and then Rachel. She should really be back by now.

 

A dozen worst-case scenarios suddenly pop into his head. Oh, god. She really _should_ be back by now.

 

 _I’m going to slip out before the next performance starts_ , signs Kurt. _I don’t want Rachel to miss her cue_.

 

Blaine nods his understanding and turns dutifully to the front. This next performer is a singer, from the looks of it. A stool singer. Probably not the most interesting for Blaine.

 

Kurt was half-expecting Blaine to turn down Rachel’s invitation to the Winter Showcase, actually. He knows that Blaine’s Joffrey friends have some sort of end-of-semester, pre-hell-week clubbing thing planned for tonight that he’s sure would have been a lot more fun. Oh, well – Blaine knew what he was getting into.

 

Kurt finds Rachel chatting intimately with Brody on the lobby steps and kindly refrains from rolling his eyes. He wrangles them both back up to the performance space, where they’re made to wait until the song is over to be let back in.

 

 _What did we miss?_ asks Kurt, as soon as he makes it back to his seat.

 

 _I don’t know, but apparently it was very moving_ , says Blaine, dryly. He nods discreetly to the woman sitting on his right, who is too busy mopping up her face to notice.

 

 _Well, don’t you worry, there’s plenty more where that came from_.

 

Madame Tibideaux takes to the stage once more, and Kurt can’t help but grab Blaine’s wrist in anticipation. For all that he’s had his jealous moments, this is still a really big night for Rachel, and he wants it to go well. He finds that he’s suddenly jangling with nerves.

 

He doesn’t need to be, as it turns out. Rachel shines, just as she’s meant to, and the entire audience agrees. She gets a standing ovation and a request for an encore, and Kurt couldn’t be prouder of her if he tried.

 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to bask in that feeling for very long. Just as he’s releasing Rachel from her very well-deserved congratulatory hug, Madame Tibideaux pulls the rug out from under him.

 

“…Now we are going to have a brief intermission. And when we come back, if he thinks he’s ready, we’ll have a performance from Mr. Hummel.”

 

Kurt swallows. Dozens of eyes turn suddenly in his direction, only some of them encouraging.

 

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

 

He’s _not_ ready. What is she thinking? He’s not prepared, and how could he be when she all but told him he’d used up his chances?

 

He sees a hand wave in his field of vision, and he turns to find Blaine, clearly confused and not a little worried.

 

_I didn’t get that. What did she say?_

 

Kurt swallows again. His throat feels suddenly, unbearably dry.

 

_She wants me to audition. Here. Tonight. In front of all of these people. Oh, my god, Blaine, what am I going to do?_

 

Blaine’s eyes go wide – an appropriate reaction, Kurt thinks.

 

 _We’ll figure something out,_ says Blaine.

 

Rachel must be able to tell that Kurt hasn’t left the initial shock stage yet, because she threads her arm through his and tells him, very calmly, “We have time. We’re going to figure it out, together, and you are going to knock her socks off.”

 

The next thing Kurt knows, he’s sequestered in a stairwell with Rachel and Blaine, simultaneously questioning Madame Tibideaux’s sanity and trying to come up with a song in his repertoire that will show her he’s more than just surface.

 

“’Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again’?” Kurt suggests, rifling through his mental catalogue.

 

Rachel shakes her head – a categorical no.

 

“No _Phantom_ , not in front of this crowd.”

 

“’With One Look’?”

 

“ _Sunset Boulevard_? Same thing.”

 

Blaine stops them. He’s been quiet up until now, watching attentively and trying to follow their back and forth. He wraps a hand around Kurt’s bicep and draws Kurt’s attention to him.

 

_Wait, no, stop. These songs, they’re great and all, but they’re someone else’s story._

 

_That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s why it’s called musical theater._

_No, it’s – look, she wants to see your heart, right?_

_That’s what she told me._

_Then you need to find a song that you feel. Here._

Blaine presses his hand to Kurt’s heart. His eyes are big, urgent, compelling Kurt to listen. Kurt’s heart beats hard and fast against his ribs, as if trying to break right through and meet Blaine’s touch.

 

And then it comes to him.

 

“’Being Alive,’” he whispers.

 

Rachel gasps behind him.

 

“Yes! Oh, my god, I just got chills. That’s perfect.”

 

And the thing is, it is. Kurt knows that it’s one of Madame Tibideaux’s least favorite audition songs. He knows that he won’t be able to hide behind any of his protective bells and whistles. But he looks at Blaine and he just…none of that matters.

 

This is the song.

 

Before he has any more time to second-guess his decision, the lobby lights start to blink, signaling the end of intermission.

 

Blaine takes one arm, and Rachel takes the other, and, together, they usher him to the stage door. They leave him with comforting words and even more comforting hugs, and then it’s his battle to face, alone. Madame Tibideaux gives him a nod when it’s time, and he walks out to the spotlight with as much confidence as he can muster. He seeks out Blaine’s supportive gaze just before he addresses the audience.

 

“Hi,” he says, signing as he speaks. It’s not as easy as it looks – the word order is just different enough that his brain kind of has to work in two directions. “I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be auditioning for the role of…NYADA student.” Blaine is smiling fondly, and Rachel gives him a subtle thumbs-up when their eyes meet. Madame Tibideaux is as stony-faced as ever. “Tonight, I’m going to perform a song that I’ve loved since I was six, but that I’ve only recently, um, figured out how to make my own.” And then, in a moment of boldness – or maybe stupidity – he adds, “I’d like to dedicate this song to a person who…inspires me. He knows who he is.”

 

Kurt’s gaze flashes quickly to Blaine, whose mouth has dropped softly open. Kurt’s heart thumps. He turns quickly to the orchestra and gives them their cue before he can overthink things and start to panic.

 

He closes his eyes, lets the music wash over him. He stops thinking about the people who are watching – save one, perhaps – stops worrying about his voice, or his hands. He’s practiced this. He’s put in the work, he’s trained his muscles. All he has to do now is let go.

 

He opens his eyes.

 

_Someone to hold you too close,_

_Someone to hurt you too deep,_

_Someone to sit in your chair,_

_And ruin your sleep_

 

He can feel it more than hear it, the murmur that runs through the audience. He doesn’t suppose it’s common for NYADA students to sing and sign simultaneously. Madame Tibideaux remains impassive, but Kurt doesn’t let that intimidate him. This choice is right.

 

He takes advantage of this natural pause in the lyrics to gather himself. He breathes in, deeply, calming the flutter of his heart and the shaking of his hands. He needs both to cooperate if he’s going to make it through to the end.

 

When he starts in again, his voice is stronger and his hands steadier. He finds Blaine in the audience, and everything clicks.

 

_Someone to need you too much,_

_Someone to know you too well,_

_Someone to pull you up short,_

_To put you through hell_

 

The song flows easily now, from his heart to his voice to his hands. It’s kind of a blur, actually, of music in his body and lights in his eyes and Blaine watching, rapt.

 

He feels cracked open. This song isn’t Kurt’s story, not really, but it touches something raw inside him.

 

_Make me alive, make me alive_

 

For once, he doesn’t shy away from that. He doesn’t want to. He feels reckless with the desire to bare his heart and his soul, not because Madame Tibideaux wants to see them, but because he’s tired of hiding them away.

 

_But alone is alone, not alive_

 

He’s been protecting himself since that summer night with Blaine, over a year ago, but he’s done with that. He can’t do it anymore.

 

He finds Blaine, again.

 

_Somebody crowd me with love,_

_Somebody force me to care,_

_Somebody let me come through,_

_I’ll always be there,_

_As frightened as you,_

_To help us survive_

_Being alive_

_Being alive_

_Being alive_

 

He holds the last note as long as he can, pours every last tender, aching bit of himself into it. There’s a pause, and then thunderous applause, and Kurt opens his eyes. He didn’t even realize he had closed them.

 

They’re giving him a standing ovation. Kurt blinks, dazed, and takes his bow.

 

&&&&&

 

Kurt and Rachel are both swamped with admirers when the showcase ends. Normally, Kurt would be thrilled about this turn of events, even if Madame Tibideaux is really the only one he needed to impress, but tonight he just kind of wants to get out. Get to Blaine.

 

Blaine is still here, mingling while he waits patiently for Kurt and Rachel to finish their networking. Kurt hasn’t talked to him since the house lights came up, but their eyes meet occasionally from across the room. Blaine sends him an encouraging smile every time.

 

Finally, just as Kurt is sure his own smile is just about to fall right off of his face, Rachel finds him and pulls him aside.

 

“Brody and I are heading out to celebrate. You shouldn’t expect me home until morning.” She says this last with a very significant look that includes a head nod in Blaine’s general direction.

 

“Okay, bye now,” says Kurt, hurriedly, just about ready to push her out the door. He’s not sure if she was implying what he thinks she was implying, but, either way, he doesn’t want Blaine to get the impression that Kurt expects something from him.

 

He takes Rachel’s exit as his cue to do the same. He locates Blaine easily, and then they head out, together. Blaine’s dorm is within walking distance. By tacit agreement, they turn in the other direction.

 

 _Where’s Rachel?_ asks Blaine, as they make their way to the closest subway stop.

 

_She’s spending the night at Brody’s._

 

Blaine furrows his brow and tilts his head, the picture of confusion. Adorable confusion.

 

_I thought she wanted to celebrate._

_She decided she wanted a more private celebration, apparently._

 

Blaine wrinkles his nose, but otherwise doesn’t comment. He’s kind of quiet the whole way back to Bushwick, actually. Not rude, never rude, but quiet. Pensive. Kurt keeps catching Blaine’s eyes on him, when he thinks Kurt isn’t paying attention. They flit away whenever Kurt turns and tries to meet them.

 

They make small talk about the showcase, Blaine once more singing Kurt’s praises, and Rachel’s, too, even though she isn’t here to soak them in. Kurt senses there’s more that Blaine wants to say, but isn’t for some reason. Kurt can’t tell if it’s good or bad or indifferent, but he does think maybe Blaine will be more likely to open up once they aren’t in public. He’s suddenly grateful to Rachel for leaving them with privacy, even if it was for the wrong reasons.

 

It’s fairly late by the time they get to Bushwick, late enough that Blaine will probably end up spending the night. Blaine doesn’t particularly like making his roommate cover for him, but he’d end up missing curfew even if he turned around and headed back right away. If he sleeps on Kurt’s couch, he at least won’t have to try and sneak past the security guard.

 

Kurt offers to make them warm milk, but Blaine refuses with a grimace. Kurt is both slightly offended and truly happy to see that Blaine is comfortable enough with him to express his true feelings on the matter.

 

 _I can barely stomach room-temperature milk_ , says Blaine, by way of explanation.

 

_You’re missing out. Warm milk is delicious._

_If you say so. I’d rather have some herbal tea, if you have any._

_I think that can be arranged._

 

Blaine wanders over to the couch while Kurt fixes their drinks, lost once more in his thoughts. He looks up, startled, when Kurt sets his mug on the coffee table in front of him.

 

 _I hope ginger is okay_ , says Kurt. _It was all we had_.

 

Blaine takes the mug into his hands and inhales deeply. He smiles warmly at Kurt.

 

 _It’s perfect. It reminds me of home_.

 

They sit together for a while, quiet and still and watching the steam curl up from their mugs. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s something pulled taut between them that won’t let Kurt settle. He can sense Blaine stealing looks at him every so often.

 

Finally, he gets Kurt’s attention with a gentle hand on his arm.

 

 _Kurt_ , he says. He’s hesitant, looking almost shyly at Kurt through his lashes. _Can I ask you something?_

 

_Of course._

_Why did you dedicate that song to me?_

 

Kurt swallows. His heart picks up speed. He knew they would have this conversation, has been expecting it since he made his decision in the stairwell and feeling it in every one of Blaine’s loaded looks, and yet, now that it’s happening, he feels completely unprepared.

 

_Because…because you inspire me, like I said._

 

It’s a safe answer, and one that Kurt regrets right away. He seems to have abandoned his courage back on stage. Blaine accepts it, though, without question. He smiles sweetly and reaches out to squeeze Kurt’s hand.

 

 _You inspire me, too_ , he says. Kurt forces a smile in return – he’s too angry with himself for it to be entirely genuine. _Your signing was really beautiful_.

 

_I thought it would add a little something extra._

_It did. I…it did_.

 

_Let’s hope T-i-b-i-d-e-a-u-x agrees._

_I’m sure she will._

 

A few moments pass. Kurt sips at his milk, hoping it will do its job and calm his nerves. Blaine picks up his mug, too, but he doesn’t drink from it. He fidgets with it instead, thumb trailing compulsively up and down the handle. He sets it down abruptly – too abruptly, because a small splash of tea drips down the side. He catches it with his thumb and sucks it into his mouth. Kurt averts his eyes.

 

Blaine is waiting for him when he looks back up. He looks…resolved, determined, if a little nervous. Kurt’s heart thumps.

 

 _Kurt, I have to tell you, I – watching you perform tonight, I felt – you moved me, Kurt._ He pauses. He’s so very earnest. Kurt can hardly breathe. _There was this…moment, when everything suddenly seemed so clear, and I knew – I – the only thought in my head was, ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.’ I don’t – I know we agreed we would just be friends, after last summer. I don’t expect anything from you. I just really wanted you to know._

 

Blaine’s eyes keep flicking away, and then back, and then away again, as if it’s out of his control. He seems to be holding his breath. Kurt feels as if he could laugh, or cry, or, oh god, something, anything to release the emotion billowing up in his chest – feels like he has to or he’ll burst – but all he can do is blink back the stinging pinpricks of tears in his eyes.

 

Finally, he gets his hands, at least, to cooperate.

 

_I – Blaine, you have to know that every word of that song was for you. You have to know that. You’re the only one I want to show my heart to._

Blaine’s eyes widen, hope starting to awaken.

 

_Really?_

_Of course. Blaine, of course._

 

Blaine doesn’t hesitate, then. He leans in, and he takes Kurt’s face in his hands, and then they’re kissing. Kurt can’t think about the warmth of Blaine’s lips, or the slide of his tongue, or the unconscious sounds he makes, he can’t, because his heart is busy singing love songs.

 

They part, breath heavy and smiles bright, and just look. Blaine’s hand is sunk into Kurt’s hair, thumb playing over the skin at his temple. Kurt leans slightly into it. He makes a small, needy sound of protest when Blaine pulls back to speak. He would likely be mortified if he had any room left in his heart.

 

 _You have no idea what it meant to me, watching you sign that song_ , says Blaine.

 

Kurt laughs, breathless.

 

_I think I might have some idea._

 

Blaine smiles, eyes soulful and never leaving Kurt’s.

 

_It felt like hearing your voice, for the first time._

 

Kurt swallows. He reaches up, caresses the apple of Blaine’s cheek with his palm. He feels like laughing, again, with the relief of acting on impulses he’s been repressing for months. Blaine’s eyes flutter closed for a moment in pleasure. Kurt stares unabashedly, taking in the sooty sweep of his lashes and the slight crook of his nose. He follows the line of Blaine’s cheekbone with his thumb.

 

Blaine opens his eyes, and finds Kurt’s.

 

 _Now you know how I feel whenever I see you on a stage_ , says Kurt.

 

Blaine doesn’t say anything in reply, but he does lean in to kiss Kurt again. Kurt doesn’t complain. He’s perfectly happy to let their bodies do the talking.

 


End file.
